


Abandon All Hope

by LadyWallace



Series: Raising Hell [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Dark Dean Winchester, Desperation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, King Of Hell Sam Winchester, Knight of Hell Dean Winchester, Lots of canon characters make an appearance, Raising Hell Verse, Sam has new powers, Temporary Character Death, Tortured Sam, Trauma, Winchester Stupid Decisions, major angst, sequel fic, series fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23373232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: (Raising Hell #4) A birthday celebration in Vegas turns deadly for one member of Team Free Will. It seems that Asmodeus is not going to let his defeat go gracefully.
Relationships: Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester & Castiel
Series: Raising Hell [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479407
Comments: 57
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so sorry it took me so long to finish the next installment of this, but I think this one is my personal favorite, and I hope you enjoy it too!
> 
> Recap: After a door in Pandemonium was opened and the ancient evil creatures, the Shedim were set loose, the Winchesters were certain someone was out to get them, especially Sam who hardly made it out of the Shedim attack alive. Turns out, their fears were correct and it was the last living Prince of Hell, Asmodeus. He invaded Hell and took the Winchesters and company captive, set to make himself the new ruler, but Sam, Dean, Cas, and the loyal demons prevailed and were able to defeat Asmodeus temporarily by using the Scythe of Kronos dipped in Shedim poison, putting him out of commission for long enough to give them time to prepare, researching, collecting weapons and getting ready for the next battle. But Asmodeus is not planning on playing fair, and he's willing to strike, even when he's still mostly out of commission...

"Happy birthday, Sammy."

Sam smiled indulgently and ducked his head, raising his glass at Dean's insistence and the three of them clashed their glasses together before taking a drink.

"God, I love unlimited funds," Dean said as he waved to a waitress, raising his now empty glass.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he had to admit, it was pretty nice staying in a five-star hotel.

The fact that it was in Vegas was moot. They'd needed a vacation for a long time and they were finally getting one.

After everything that had happened with Asmodeus invading Hell and taking over for a brief period until Sam took his throne back, there'd been a lot to do. Putting their kingdom back together yet again. With everything else he'd had to think about, Sam had almost forgotten it was almost his birthday, but a week ago Dean had decided that they were going to celebrate it, and instantly planned a trip to Vegas.

To be fair, Sam wasn't as thrilled as he could be with the destination spot, but this was just as much for Dean as it was for him. They'd all taken some hard hits in the last few months, and Dean ending up on a rack in Hell again, however briefly, had not helped. His brother had been waking up from the kind of nightmares he hadn't had for years, and Sam was glad they were getting a chance to get out of there for a while. And a place like Vegas with the gambling, and the showgirls, could even keep Dean distracted from his worse memories.

And really, it had been a long time since Sam had just let himself relax too. As Dean had told him when he came up with the idea, it wouldn't kill him to have a little fun. And ruling Hell had its perks. Unlimited funds being one of them. Crowley had set them up with no-max credit cards, which they still hadn't gotten the hang of using when they went on hunts. But they'd definitely put them to good use in Vegas already, what with the hotel and the steak dinner and drinks.

Lots of drinks.

Even _more_ drinks were deposited on the table in front of them by a provocatively clad waitress who gave Dean a very pointed once-over. Sam turned to Cas and they both rolled their eyes.

Dean caught their look as their waitress walked away. "Oh, come on, live a little. It's your birthday, Sammy! And how long has it been since you've gotten any?" He smirked. "I mean, being king has to come with some perks."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, and every woman is scrambling to sleep with the King of Hell who they don't even know exists."

"Kiddo, with this credit card, you can be whoever you friggin' want," Dean told him with a wink. "King of Hell, Brad Pitt, playboy millionaire, take your pick. At the end of the day, it's all the same here." He picked up his glass and took a long swig. "Just remember, we're here to have _fun._ " He emphasized the last word, pointedly looking between Sam and Cas.

"I'm not entirely sure this denotes my idea of fun," Cas admitted.

Sam laughed and clapped the angel on the shoulder, already feeling a little drunk. "It will be okay, Cas. And Dean's right. It _has_ been way too long since we've had fun."

"Tonight, we're not the rulers of Hell, we're just three dudes looking for a good time," Dean said, reaching across the table to grip both their shoulders. "And later, I'm teaching Cas how to play blackjack."

Cas' protests were cut short by the arrival of several of the waitresses, carrying a huge cupcake between them with sparklers burning on it, giggling.

"Oh, here comes your surprise," Dean said with a grin at Sam.

"Oh god…Dean…" Sam covered his face in embarrassment as Dean laughed and the girls popped party poppers, making confetti fly all over the place as they set the cake in front of Sam, wishing him happy birthday.

"If you ask nice, maybe they'll feed it to you," Dean said and Sam kicked him under the table, but was smiling all the same.

This was normal. That was what this was really about. It was about the three of them getting to be _normal_ for a night. Getting drunk, gambling with Hell's nearly endless coffers, and, in Dean's case, getting laid. They could be regular stupid humans for a couple days, then go back to their duties, maybe not without regrets, but at least none that held any real weight or world-ending consequences.

Sam flushed as one of the girls took a fork at Dean's comment and giggled as she raised a bite of cake to Sam's mouth. He ate it awkwardly as Dean wolf-whistled and Cas shook his head. Sam grabbed his drink and downed it, feeling the warmth of the alcohol blanketing his embarrassment.

He picked up his fresh glass, smiled, and held it up. Dean, and even Cas, raised theirs as well in a second toast.

The night was young, and it was theirs. No politics or looming rebellions were taking their attention that night.

Sam decided he was going to celebrate his birthday and enjoy it.

~~~~~~~

" _No, no more!"_ Sam protested as Dean set down his empty glass. "Dude, you'll be too drunk to play blackjack."

"Fine, fine," Dean said, and waved for the bill, slipping a generous tip into the waitress's hand and probably his room number too. Sam stood and felt the liquor going to his head. It had been a long time since he'd gotten drunk, and he wasn't used to it anymore.

"Sam, are you okay?" Cas asked him with concern as he set a hand on the back of his chair to steady himself.

"Yeah, just too many drinks," Sam said, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Why don't you guys go to the casino? I'll catch up with you in a minute, I'm gonna go out to the courtyard for some fresh air."

"Hey, no skipping out on us, Sammy," Dean said, wagging a finger at him.

"I'm not skipping out, promise," Sam huffed. "Ten minutes."

Dean huffed back, but nodded. He slung his arm around Cas' shoulders and led the angel toward the casino. "Alright. But I will come looking for you if you try to hide."

Sam smirked and waved them away as he headed for the doors that led out to the large courtyard behind the hotel.

No one was out there, obviously finding better things to do with their time, and it was peaceful, none of the noise that was slightly discombobulating in the restaurant.

Sam breathed deeply, and tipped his head back to look up at the stars, the cool night air already helping clear the drunken fug from his brain. He thought his demonic powers might have something to do with that too. Dean was convinced that he could drink more now before he got drunk. Honestly, Sam wouldn't mind spending the rest of the night out here in the peace and quiet, but Dean would make good on his threat to find him. Until then, he planned to make the most of a short breather.

Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dean wasn't lurking, Sam pulled his phone from his pocket. He dialed and listened as the call went through.

"Your Majesty? I thought you were instilling a no calling rule. Is something the matter?"

"Don't worry, Wheatly," Sam huffed a laugh at hearing his steward's slightly reprimanding tone. Obviously, Dean had gotten to him. "Just checking in. Making sure everything is going okay there."

"You know I have everything under control, my lord," Wheatly assured him. "You're not supposed to be thinking about Hell right now."

"Okay, fine, I get the message," Sam laughed. "Everything's good."

"Indeed, my lord. Oh, and happy birthday."

"Thanks, Wheatly," Sam smiled. "I guess I better go back to celebrating before Dean finds me."

"That would probably be wise," Wheatly said, and ended the call.

Sam huffed a laugh and tucked his phone back in his pocket, turning it off. He turned to go back to the casino when he felt a demonic presence.

If he hadn't been drunk, he probably would have recognized it sooner. As it was, it was too late by the time he turned around.

He was met with a demon holding a gun.

Sam tried to summon his powers, but they were sluggish, and by then the demon had already pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out in the cool, clear night.

~~~~~~~

" _I promise you_ , Cas, you'll be great at blackjack," Dean was saying as he and the angel entered the casino and he looked around at all the different tables and games going. The room was filled with cries of elation and desperation. He breathed in deep, already feeling his alcohol intake dissipating, and leaned in close to Cas to be heard over the din.

"I don't know, Dean."

"Come on! We're here to have fun! And if you don't like blackjack, you could always try your hand at poker. I bet you'd make a killing—you always beat Bobby and he's the best player I know."

Cas rolled his eyes slightly, but didn't protest anymore. "Fine. I suppose I'll have to have something to do while you make advances on literally every woman here."

Dean ignored the obvious jab and grinned. "That's the spirit! Look, there's a table over there that doesn't seem to have that many people. Come on."

Cas reluctantly allowed Dean to steer him over to the table where a dealer was placing cards out across the green velvet top.

"Why don't you watch this for a couple minutes, see how it's done. I've gotta hit the head," Dean grinned and clapped the angel on the shoulder. "Keep an eye out for Sammy too, would ya?"

Cas nodded and Dean glanced around to find the nearest restroom. After emptying his bladder, he turned to the sinks and washed his hands, before leaning over to splash water on his face to wake himself up a little. He didn't know if he was getting rusty or just old, but he didn't want to admit to Sam or Cas how tired he was after a days' drive and probably too many drinks. He was kind of really looking forward to sleeping in a huge, comfy bed that night in his own room. Secretly, he thought that he might just skip a prospective conquest until tomorrow. It would only be embarrassing to fall asleep the minute he laid down in bed. Sam and Cas could think what they wanted when he got up late the next day.

As he was bent with his face near the sink, the door to the bathroom opened and he instantly felt a prickle on the back of his neck he that he always got when he sensed a demonic presence where it shouldn't be. And there were several.

He straightened slowly, eyes flicking to black, as two demons advanced on him, equipped with angel blades.

Dean reached into his coat and pulled out the demon killing knife that he had taken with him because of instinct and years of hunter training drilled into him. He was glad he had now.

"Even a Knight of Hell is no match for three of us, especially drunk," said a third demon who had hung back, sniffing with a look of derision.

Dean smirked and flipped his blade around, holding it backwards with the blade against his wrist in a knife-fighter's style. "Try me, bitches," he growled before the two demons simply rushed him and lashed out with their blades.

Dean ducked under one blow, slashing with his knife and catching that demon across the ribs, as he kicked the other backwards into the urinals.

The wounded demon staggered backwards, eyes black with fury, and poised to attack again.

Dean caught sight of the other demon in the mirror and whipped around, stabbing him in the shoulder.

The demon cried out and Dean kicked the blade from his hand, as the first demon grabbed him from behind, an arm around his neck.

Dean grabbed the demon's wrist before he could stab him, the angel blade halting just an inch away from his chest. He grunted, struggling to kick out at the other demon who had grabbed his blade again, shoving his boot into his assailant's stomach.

Seeming to see Dean wasn't going down easy, the third demon joined the fray and Dean frantically extricated himself, throwing the demon previously choking him over his hip, just in time for the third demon to grab him by the back of his coat and throw him into the sinks.

Dean flew backwards and slammed into the mirror, feeling it shatter against his shoulder and the back of his head. His breath was knocked out of him as he crumpled onto the sinks and then rolled to the floor, the knife jarring from his hand as he struck his elbow.

Before he could recover it, the demon had him by the front of his coat, hauling him upright and slamming him back against the sinks again, bruising the small of Dean's back. He grunted as he felt shards from the mirror digging into his flesh.

"The Winchester reign is at an end," the demon sneered. "Asmodeus wants you to know that."

"Asmodeus can go to Hell," Dean said. "I'll make sure he has a welcoming party."

A knife swung toward Dean and he made to duck to one side as the door to the restroom slammed open, accompanied by the furious light of Cas' battle-heightened grace.

"Dean!" he yelled and threw his blade at the demon about to stab Dean. The blade took him through the throat, and the demon slid to the ground. Dean was already moving, retrieving Cas' blade, and tossing it underhand to the angel in the same movement as he bent to retrieve his own.

It took only another second for the two of them to take out the two remaining demons.

Dean panted, reaching up with a wince to pull a shard of mirror from his shoulder before he grabbed a paper towel and cleaned his blade.

"What the hell was this?" he muttered.

"I have no idea. I felt the demonic presence and came as quickly as I could," Cas said worriedly, bending to search through one of the demons' coats, but coming up with nothing. He straightened. "Are you all right?"

Dean nodded, though his head ached. It would be fine in a couple hours though. He was already pulling his phone out. "They said to send their regards to Asmodeus. I guess he's on the playing field again."

"You think this was a hit?" Cas asked worriedly.

"Yeah." Dean speed dialed Wheatly.

"Now _you're_ calling, Master Winchester?" the Steward of Hell asked, sounding amused.

"Can it, Jeeves, we've got a problem. I need you to send a team to clean up some bodies like yesterday."

Wheatly's voice instantly turned serious. "Are you all right, Master Winchester? Do you need more men?"

"No, not yet, we just need to figure out what's going on." He ended the call before Wheatly could ask any more questions, knowing the steward would do as he asked. "We need to find Sam. Now."

They both rushed out of the restroom as Dean grabbed an OUT OF ORDER sign from a janitor's cart nearby and clapped it on the door. Hopefully no one would get there before his men came to clean it up.

They ran through the casino, nearly knocking over a group of showgirls with trays, who gave them dirty looks, but they didn't stop, not even bothering to think that Dean still had blood on his clothes and the back of his head.

"Where the hell is he?" Dean muttered as they made it back into the restaurant. He grabbed his phone and dialed Sam's number, counting rings until the voicemail picked up.

Cas suddenly grabbed his arm. "Dean, he said he was going to step out into the courtyard for some fresh air."

Heart in his throat, Dean and Cas raced through the busy restaurant to the doors that led outside.

He threw the doors open and the second he and Cas stepped out, the sound of a gunshot rang through the night air.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, spinning around and racing in the direction the shot had come from.

The image that presented itself made his heart stop. A figure dressed in dark clothes stood there with a gun still pointed in front of him, and Sam…

Sam was on the ground, a dark puddle surrounding him.

"No. NO!" Dean screamed.

The dark figure, a demon, Dean could tell now, turned, and pointed the gun at him.

"Dean!"

Cas slammed Dean to the ground as a second gunshot rang out and whizzed off into the night. Dean roared and surged to his feet again as the figure began to run. He grabbed his blade and threw it at the retreating figure. It caught the demon between the shoulder blades and he fell with a cry.

Dean was running to Sam's fallen form then, collapsing and skidding so violently on the cobblestones that he tore the knee of his jeans, feeling the sharp pain that was nothing compared to the horror squeezing his insides.

"Sam. Sammy! Oh god, come on…"

He pressed a hand against the hole in Sam's chest, leaking precious blood. There was already so much of it…it was seeping into Dean's jeans, mixing with his own blood from his scraped knees.

Dean ripped his jacket off and pressed it to Sam's chest, his other hand falling to Sam's cheek, stroking his hair back, before slapping his cheek gently.

"Sammy, come on, don't do this. You can't do this to me. _Please_." He twisted frantically, calling over his shoulder, "Cas!"

The angel appeared in a second, rushing to the pair and kneeling on Sam's other side, throwing down Dean's blade and the gun he had taken off the demon's body. His hands went to Sam's chest and forehead, closing his eyes.

Dean watched Sam's face, waiting for some movement, some flicker to let him know his brother was still in there, because he couldn't be...he just couldn't. Not now, not after everything.

"Dean."

Cas' voice was strangled and Dean finally tore his eyes away from his little brother's face to look at his friend. The angel was pale and he swallowed hard. Dean felt his insides squeeze painfully hard.

"No," he gritted out. "Don't say that to me, Cas. Do not say that!"

Pain crossed Cas' features as he reached out and gripped Dean's shoulders. "He…he's gone, Dean," he whispered.

"Don't say that!" Dean snarled, shoving Cas off of him so violently the angel sat down hard on the cobbles. Dean hauled his brother across his knees, shaking him. "Sammy! Don't you dare, little brother, you come back! You hear me? You come back! Dammit!"

He clutched Sam's limp body to him and Cas returned, gripping his shoulder tightly, his head bowed in shared grief. Not saying anything, because what the hell could he say about this?

Tears slid down Dean's cheeks mingling with Sam's blood, but he took a shaky breath and looked up, eyes flicking to black.

"I swear, I'm gonna kill Asmodeus for this," he gritted out. "That son of a bitch's days are numbered."


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark. Not like the night was dark, but like a black hole. Not just the absence of light, but the absence of…everything.

Sam pushed himself up into a sitting position slowly, trying to figure out what had happened. He pressed a hand to his chest. The last thing he remembered was a searing, numbing pain and then nothing. It had all happened so fast…

Was…was he dead?

He looked around the complete void, confused. What _was_ this? It definitely wasn't Heaven, and he was pretty sure it wasn't Hell. Not Purgatory either, then what…

"Hello, Moose. Good to see you again."

_~~~~~~~_

_It was surreal._ Dean wasn't even entirely sure he believed what he was looking at. At Sam—no, Sam's _body—_ lying on his bed in the suite they shared in Hell.

And it wasn't like they hadn't been here before. Dean still shuddered at the thought of how Sam must have felt when he had carried Dean's body into his room after Metatron stabbed him through the chest. He still remembered that first time in Cold Oak. It never got easier, or less painful, but they weren't entirely human anymore. They were stronger, less mortal, this _wasn't supposed to happen._

Dean finally looked up from his brother's body, suddenly unable to stare at the pale, too still, bloodstained features for another second. He blinked, took a deep breath and turned to Cas and Wheatly who were standing silently to one side.

"There's gotta be something…I mean, he can't just…" Dean's hands clenched into fists and he shifted restlessly as he tried to get his thoughts together.

Juliet was lying on the bed at her master's feet, head lowered onto her paws as she whined. The sound nearly broke something new apart inside Dean, what little he had left that hadn't already been shattered.

He spun around and turned to Wheatly. "Look, you can deal with me, right? Or one of the crossroads demons can? We can make the contract anything we want."

"Dean," Cas said softly, before biting his lower lip.

"Master Winchester," Wheatly said quietly. "It doesn't work like that. Your position…you're not entirely human, and demons can only deal with humans."

Dean clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails bit into his palms, drawing hot blood, but he welcomed the pain to focus himself. "Then what?!" he shouted, jabbing a finger toward the bed. "Because I sure as hell am not going to leave my brother lying there!"

Cas sighed, running a hand wearily over his face. "Dean, the only thing I can think of is if we can find his soul. Then we might be able to bring him back."

"Then do it," Dean snarled.

"My lord," Wheatly stepped in. "I don't mean to be indelicate, but…Hell needs a ruler. This situation…it's balancing on the edge of a knife."

"Then let it burn! Let it all burn down!" Dean shouted at the little demon. "You think I give a damn right now?"

"No, but Sam would," Cas cut in firmly. "And you know that. Do not waste what you and your brother built."

"Sam's dead!" Dean snapped.

"Dean, think for a moment!" Cas snapped, and Dean met his eyes, shocked into listening. "Think about this whole situation! No one outside of Hell knew where we would be. So, unless we've had someone following us, or Asmodeus got lucky with a tip, someone here let out the information that we would be in Vegas this weekend. And whoever that is could have Asmodeus coming here now, and this time he'll know what to expect, and he'll be ready."

Dean clenched his jaw, torn. He knew Cas was right, and he knew he had duties, and yet…

He glanced back over at Sam's body, hands folded over the bloodstained shirt, hiding the bullet hole. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream and tear up Heaven and Hell looking for his brother's soul…but Cas and Wheatly were right. He had a duty. Not just to Sam and Hell, but to himself. If he broke now, he would never recover.

He closed his eyes for a long moment, breathing in deeply, before he managed to steady himself a little, loosening his fists.

"Alright. The court needs to be addressed. Gather them, Wheatly. I'm gonna go clean up."

He still had Sam's blood all over him, and he needed to get it off. He needed to look the part of the new ruler—the temporary one, he told himself. He sure as hell was not gonna leave Sam dead for long. With all the resources they had been given, there had to be something in the archives or elsewhere that could bring Sam back.

He turned to his room and stripped out of his clothes, throwing them onto the floor of the bathroom. He'd have Wheatly throw them into the fires in Tartarus later. He never wanted to see them again.

He bent over the sink, washing Sam's blood from his hands, and watching the rusty streams flow down the drain.

He gave the injuries he had sustained a cursory scrub, knowing they would be mostly gone by tomorrow, and finally chanced to look at himself in the mirror.

He wished he hadn't. He looked tired, broken, not at all fit to address the court.

So, he took a deep breath, straightened, put his shoulders back, and flicked his eyes to black. It gave him a steely determination that was much better than the alternative.

"I swear, Sammy, I'll get the bastard who did this," he said.

He hurried out to his room and opened his closet. His eyes scanned his suit, but that was Sam's signature. He was still the Knight of Hell and as long as he was acting in that capacity, he was going to dress like it.

So out came the black jeans and t-shirt. The combat boots and the long black duster that settled over his shoulders like a cloak of darkness. He grabbed his katana and strapped it across his back, then strode out of the room.

Cas and Wheatly were waiting for him and they seemed somewhat relieved to see him put together.

"The court is awaiting your address, Your Ma—"

"Don't," Dean snapped at the steward. "Not yet."

Wheatly nodded respectfully and Dean shouldered past them to the throne room.

The demons were crowded into the open area, as Dean descended the stairs and stood in front of the throne, Cas and Wheatly at his back.

"I know you're all here looking for answers and I'm gonna give them to you," Dean said. "You probably have heard the rumors that…that the king is dead." He tried not to let his voice waver, and put every ounce of strength and anger into his next words that he could muster. "Well, it's true. So now, I'm in charge. And I also know that someone here betrayed us to Asmodeus." He scanned the room, eyes piercing. "And I am going to make it my personal duty to find out who did that. That's a promise."

The demons shifted uncomfortably in the room, but didn't say anything. Dean tried to spot any particular body language that could indicate betrayal, but saw none. He nodded once. "That's all for now."

He stepped down and into the antechamber to the throne room where Winston and several guards were waiting.

"Winston, I want you to find any demons who were not accounted for during the time between when we left Hell and when the hit went down and bring them to the dungeons," Dean said. "Especially any who's loyalty is already under suspicion. Those who joined on with Asmodeus when he was here last time."

"Dean, what are you doing?" Cas asked wearily.

"I'm finding out who did this," Dean snapped. "Look, see what you can do about Sam. I can't just sit around and stare at a corpse all day. See if you can find out what happened to his soul."

Cas' face showed pity as well as his own grief as he said, "You know I'll do everything in my power."

"Then do it!" Dean snapped. He turned back to Winston. "Come on, you're with me."

He strode off down the hall toward the prisons, Winston and several guards on his heels. Dean flicked his eyes black without even thinking about it, and along with the ominous flapping of his leather coat, he seemed more like an omen of death than a Knight of Hell.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel stood by Sam's_ bedside and felt like part of his heart had been carved out of his chest. Memories of Sam lying near death due to the Shedim poison filtered in, when Castiel had first discovered that he couldn't heal the Winchesters any longer due to their demonic condition. He knew it wasn't his fault, really, but he was still furious with himself. If he'd been able to heal them, he might have been able to save Sam back at the hotel.

But then again, perhaps he had already been too far gone, there had been so much blood.

Castiel looked down and realized that Sam was still covered in blood. He bit his lip, but decided it would be better for all of them if he cleaned Sam up. He certainly didn't want Dean to be the one to have to do it.

He took a deep breath and reached down to gently grip Sam's wrists, pushing his arms to his sides. Just the touch of a body so familiar to him that no longer had a soul, no warmth, was enough to make him sick. The familiar features with no life behind them…

He bowed his head, overcome with emotion. His hands shook as he tried to fortify himself enough to undo the buttons on Sam's shirt.

A careful hand descended on his arm. "Allow me, angel."

Castiel turned with surprise to see Wheatly standing there. The steward must have come in without him knowing, a testament to his current state.

"It's fine," he managed, even though it wasn't at all fine. "I'll do it…"

Wheatly gave him a look, but it was only full of sympathy and understanding. "Please, this is my duty as steward. It is the least I can do for my king."

Gratefully, Castiel ducked his head and stepped to one side as Wheatly efficiently took over, taking out a pair of scissors to more easily undress Sam.

Castiel swallowed hard as the bullet wound in the center of his friend's chest was revealed, and turned aside, hesitantly scratching the distraught Juliet on the head before he went into the bathroom to grab a cloth and water to clean Sam up.

When he got back, he frowned as he saw Wheatly with the first aid kit open, a pair of tweezers in his hand as he dug the bullet out.

"Didn't think there was a point leaving it in," Wheatly said quietly, setting it aside on a swatch of gauze on the bedside table.

Castiel picked up the bullet, instantly recognizing the material.

"This was forged out of angelic steel," he said in a hushed voice.

"Yes," Wheatly said grimly. "A normal bullet wouldn't do much to the Winchesters now." He took the bowl and cloths from Castiel. "You don't have to stay for this, angel. Go see what you can find in Heaven."

Castiel pressed his lips together, but was again grateful to the steward. "Thank you." He was about to leave before he turned back around. "Wheatly…just…look after Dean. Make sure he doesn't do anything he's going to regret."

The demon met his eyes and inhaled deeply. "I will do my best."

Castiel nodded and left the room, hurrying out, feeling his chest unlock a little now that he was actively doing something. Like Dean, the one thing he hated more than anything was sitting around not being able to do anything.

He just hoped his efforts wouldn't be in vain.

He drove to the portal to Heaven and was somewhat surprised to find that no one was guarding it. Although, from what he understood they were rather short staffed, and with Naomi no longer in charge, some things had probably changed.

He walked through the deserted playground and stepped up to the sandbox. At least the sigil was still there, so the gate must be open.

"Hello?" he called, hoping someone above would hear. "This is Castiel. I need to speak with someone." He paused a moment, swallowing hard before he added, "It's urgent."

It occurred to him in the silence that they might know Sam's soul was in Heaven already, and if they did… well, they probably would have guessed that was why Castiel was there. And in that case, it was possible they wouldn't let him in at all. One less Winchester on the earth was a good day for Heaven.

Castiel clenched his hands into fists. "Please! I just need to talk!"

To his surprise, the gate opened with a shimmery light, and the angel Duma stood in the middle of the sandbox, arms crossed over her chest.

"Castiel," she said, her voice cold and unwelcoming.

"Duma," Castiel said, likewise. "I need information. I was hoping you could help me. If you could just let me in—"

Duma let her hands fall to her sides as if making it easier for her to reach for a blade. "If you think I'm going to just let you walk into Heaven, after everything you did…" She shook her head.

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "To be fair, Naomi was the one who decided it was a good idea to work with demons. And if you recall, she did have me chained up and tortured."

Duma scoffed. "And who is currently living, and _serving_ , in Hell?"

Castiel sighed. He didn't have time for this. He took a step forward and Duma reached into her coat, pulling out a blade before Castiel stopped, holding his hands out in a non-threatening manner. "Duma, I did not come to fight. You have my word. I just need one thing and then I will be gone."

Duma eyed him suspiciously. "And what might that be?"

Castiel took a small, shuddering breath. "Sam Winchester's soul."

Duma actually looked surprised, which was not the reaction Castiel had been expecting. A smirk, maybe a high and mighty attitude, but not this. For some reason, he liked this reaction even less.

"And what makes you think we have his soul?" she demanded.

"Because he's dead, Duma," Castiel spat, quickly losing his patience.

Duma raised her eyebrows at this. "Well, he's not here."

Castiel took another step toward her with a growl. "Forgive me, but I think I would prefer to see for myself. I am not leaving here without him.

Duma had her blade held ready, but didn't make a move to attack. She stared at Castiel for a long moment, then finally sighed. "You won't leave until I show you, will you?"

"No," Castiel growled.

Duma rolled her eyes and finally stepped back so Castiel could join her in the middle of the sigil, but kept her blade at the ready. "Fine. But if you try anything, I will kill you."

"Likewise," Castiel returned, before he stepped into the sigil and they were both transported to Heaven.

Duma led Castiel toward the section where the human souls had their personal heavens. Castiel ignored the stares from the other angels they passed, some looking confused, or furious at his appearance, but he simply passed them, his new black coat, flaring out behind him, looking stark and out of place in the white-washed, muted colors of Heaven.

When they finally reached the proper area, Castiel hurried past the doors until he found the right space. There was one for both John and Mary Winchester, even Henry and his wife, but no more than that. Sam was not there.

Confused, and growing more desperate by the minute, Castiel spun around, causing Duma to raise her blade defensively.

"What have you done with him?" he demanded.

"I told you he wasn't here!" Duma snapped. "Trust me, Castiel. If a Winchester was here I'd gladly let you have him."

"Then where is he?"

Duma gave him a look. "Don't you think Hell would collect their own?"

Castiel frowned, then realized that might very well be the case. With the Winchesters' newly demonic nature, it might be impossible for them to get into Heaven at all now—a fact that hurt Castiel greatly, but they would have time to think about that more later. He was already heading back to the entrance of Heaven. At least it would make things easier if all he had to do was pluck Sam from the influx of souls that Hell was taking in.

Somehow, though, he worried it wasn't going to be that easy.

_~~~~~~~_

_The demon trembled_ , whimpering as the blade sliced through his flesh. Some blood dripped to the floor in a slow patter and the metallic scent filled Dean's nostrils so that he could almost taste it on the back of his tongue.

"I told you to tell me who betrayed us," he said in a low growl.

"I d-don't know…gah!" the demon stuttered before crying out as Dean lashed out and grabbed him around the throat, squeezing threateningly.

"You were one of the first to turn last time Asmodeus came here. I've questioned your known compatriots and they haven't told me anything either. Someone is gonna talk eventually, or I promise I will personally carve apart every one of you sons of bitches until I get the answer I'm looking for."

"I d-didn't, honest," the demon choked out.

"Then tell me who did!" Dean snapped, raising the demon knife again and pressing it against his captive's heaving ribs. "You have to have some clue. I know you demons all talk. So talk!"

He began to carve a deep line across the demon's ribs and got a strangled scream for his trouble.

"Please, I'm telling you!" the demon screamed, struggling against the manacles that held him to the rack.

Dean snarled and slammed his fist into the demon's face. "My brother is dead and you're begging _me_?"

"N-no, I…I would tell you if I could, honest!"

Dean gritted his teeth, and finally turned toward the door to the cell and hammered on it, alerting the guard outside.

"Get rid of him," Dean commanded. "Throw him in with the others and bring me the next one."

The guard did as he was told silently and Dean turned around, leaning a bloody hand against the wall as he took a breather. He was getting nowhere. None of the demons seemed to know anything, or at least didn't seem willing to tell him. Maybe he wasn't going hard enough on them.

_Maybe you've forgotten what you can really do_ , a whisper spoke in the back of his mind.

Dean's stomach twisted slightly at the echo of Alastair's words in his head. It wasn't that he _wanted_ to do this. It was just…Sammy.

The door opened and he pulled himself upright and flicked his eyes to black again, turning to watch as the guards strapped the next demon to the rack.

"Callum," Dean growled as he saw who it was. "You're already on probation after all the stunts you've pulled over the last couple years. First Kipling, and then Asmodeus," he clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

The demon glowered at him, but glanced sideways, looking slightly wary as the guards left, locking the door behind them.

"That's right," Dean growled, stalking slowly around the rack. "You're locked in here with me. Lucky you."

"I know about you," Callum said, obviously trying to put on a brave front. "Alastair's apprentice. That doesn't scare me; not like the others."

"It doesn't?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow before he turned to his table of instruments, already bloodstained. He picked up his demon knife again. "Maybe it shouldn't. I put that behind me a long time ago. But…" He turned around, his black eyes boring into the demon. "What I've never put behind me, is being a big brother. A protector. That hasn't changed. Not since Sam and I were kids; not even now when he's the king and I'm a Knight of Hell. And when someone hurts my family, I hurt them. Simple as that. So, Callum, this can go two ways. You can help me find out who betrayed us and got my brother killed, or you can sit there and scream. Your choice."

Callum glowered at him, lips pressed tight. Dean shrugged.

"Guess we'll do it the hard way then."

Callum was stoic, Dean would give him that, but the demon blade wasn't much in the scheme of things and the elder Winchester was starting to get desperate.

"You really going to force me to pull out all the stops?" Dean shook his head.

Callum turned to one side and spat out a gob of blood. "Cut the foreplay, Winchester. You might get what you want then."

"Oh, sweetheart, I haven't even started," Dean said flatly as he picked up a syringe and a flask and began to fill it with holy water. He could feel Callum squirming behind him and as he turned the demon was trying hard to hide his fear. Dean pressed the plunger to allow a small stream of holy water to escape the needle, the spray falling on Callum's cheek as he winced.

"Last chance," Dean offered.

Callum shook his head. Dean grabbed his chin and wrenched his head to one side before jabbing the syringe into his neck.

Callum screamed and writhed as the holy water flooded his system. It only took him a couple seconds before he screamed. Dean watched dispassionately as the holy water worked its way out of him and he finally collapsed limply against the rack, panting ragged breaths.

Dean reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head up. "Well?"

"Screw you," Callum spat.

"Fine," Dean said and turned back to the holy water, dipping the syringe into it again.

For a second, he thought Callum would actually let him inject another dose into him, but as he brought the syringe over to him, the demon finally cracked. "All right, all right! Hold on!"

Dean held on, cocking an eyebrow. "You got info?"

"I had nothing to do with it, honest!" Callum stuttered.

"Skip the introduction," Dean snapped.

"Okay, okay, look, it was Dorian, I'm sure of it! He said he had a plan to make you two pay. Some of us were planning on joining up with Asmodeus when he inevitably tried to take over again but Dorian wanted to speed things up a little."

"Where is he now?" Dean demanded.

"He's a crossroads demon, I don't even think he's here right now. He's probably on Earth making the rounds."

Dean growled. Damn those crossroads demons. He didn't regret pissing them off but he was getting really tired of their petty reactions.

He tossed the syringe back on the table and saw Callum's sigh of relief, before he walked to the door and hammered on it again.

The guards unlocked it and he stepped out. "Put him with the others. Winston," Dean called to the Captain who was standing at the end of the hall, discussing something with one of the guards. "We need to put out an APB on Dorian. When you find him, bring him to me!"

"Sir," Winston nodded in confirmation.

Dean went back to the cell and grabbed his katana from where he had hung it up as a reminder to the demons of what would happen if they'd had any active part in this betrayal. He slung it across his back again and the familiar weight was like a promise that he would see justice done for his brother no matter the outcome.

_~~~~~~~_

_Castiel got back to Hell,_ heading to their suite first where he found Wheatly seemingly sitting vigil with Juliet at Sam's bedside. The steward had dressed Sam in his black suit, cleaned and brushed his hair, and folded his hands gently over his chest. Castiel's heart squeezed. Without the blood, Sam almost looked like he could be sleeping, but he knew he wasn't.

"I didn't want any of the demons to come in here and try anything," Wheatly told him with a dark edge to his voice.

Castiel felt sickened by the thought, and nodded gratefully. "Where's Dean?"

Wheatly pressed his lips together. "In the dungeons. Interrogating suspects."

Castiel's stomach flipped. In Dean's current state of mind, he was afraid his friend would lose himself. He'd seen what Sam and Dean both had done before without the other to stabilize them. And even though he was a good friend and a brother in his own right, he had never been able to truly fill the space that was lost.

"I take it you didn't find His Majesty's soul in Heaven," Wheatly stated grimly.

Castiel shook his head, shoulders slumping. "No. The angels suggested that he might have ended up here. I was going to tell Dean and then go to the incoming souls. Hopefully find Sam before an enterprising demon does."

Wheatly nodded and stood. "I will help you. I'll set guards I trust here. But…" He nodded to the heartbroken hellhound. "Juliet will not let anyone harm him in the meantime."

Castiel bit his lip and left the suite with the Steward, heading toward the dungeons.

He rounded the corner just as Dean was coming out of a cell and as the elder Winchester caught sight of him, Castiel knew his failure was written on his face as Dean's shut down.

"You didn't find him." It was not a question.

Castiel shook his head and spoke quietly. "No. It's possible he's here. It actually makes more sense. I doubt either of you would be allowed into Heaven after signing the contract."

Dean's jaw tightened and Castiel realized he had blood on his hands and more spattering the leather duster. He pressed his lips together with worry. "Did you…?" he was almost afraid to ask.

Dean finally looked down at his hands as if remembering, and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, wiping them as clean as possible. "I have a name. Dorian," he said, ignoring Castiel's question. "I've got Winston and his men out on it, but we can go look for Sam at incoming souls."

He pushed past Castiel and started in that direction. The angel tightened his jaw with worry but followed.

They made it to the Vestibule quickly and Dean stalked right up to the receptionist as Castiel began to scan the seemingly infinite line of souls waiting to be checked in, searching for a familiar glow. He shook his head, not seeing anything resembling Sam.

He turned back to Dean who was leaning threateningly over the demon who was practically trembling in fear.

"It's a simple question, have you seen my brother's soul or not?" Dean demanded.

"I didn't, M-Master Winchester," she stuttered. "I promise I didn't! I would have told you if I did!"

"Was anyone else working here between now and yesterday?" Castiel asked her.

"Yes, um, Devon," she said.

"Call him here," Dean snapped, reaching over and snagging her book as he began to flip through it. "He couldn't have just slipped through the cracks, he's either here in line, or he's already been processed, and I'll find out where the hell someone stashed him if it's the last thing I do."

"I'll check the line again," Castiel assured him, hurrying off down the line of souls, but after searching through the ones even past the time Sam would have ended up there, there was nothing, and the tightness in his chest was beginning to get more painful as his worry increased.

By the time he got back, both Devon and Wheatly had appeared, and the demon was pleading his case with Dean who Castiel could see was quickly about to fly off the handle.

"You're telling me no one would have reason to grab my brother's soul and hide him away," Dean snapped. "Half of you aren't even loyal to him! How do you expect me to believe that!"

"Look, there's only so many places you could hide a soul here," Devon protested. "I promise I'm loyal, Master Winchester. Please, I just do my job!"

Dean jabbed a finger into his chest. "If I find out you're lying, you'll die with that bastard Dorian when I find him too. If Sam has ended up in Tartarus or worse, there will be hell to pay." He turned to Castiel and Wheatly. "Come on, we're going to have to look for him. I'll tear this place apart if I have to."

There was no point in stopping him and Castiel shared a look with Wheatly as they hurried off as well.

They did practically tear Hell apart. They spread out to all the realms, searched every nook and cranny that a soul could have been stashed in, and all the time Castiel began to feel more and more discouraged. Something was eating at the back of his mind. Something he realized he should be considering, but he didn't know what it was.

It was hours before he found Dean again, in a dark hallway outside Tartarus, coming back from searching every bit of it.

His face tore a new hole in Castiel's chest, as well as the half-hopeful look he sent Castiel's way.

"Anything?" he asked.

Castiel shook his head. "No."

Dean roared and slammed his fist into the wall, splitting knuckles. "Someone has him! I swear, Cas, I know one of those bastards has him somewhere. They could be torturing him for all we know. I…" He shook his head, his eyes flicking to black in a way that Castiel didn't like at all. "I'll tear them up. Someone has to know something and I'm gonna find out what it is even if I have to put half of Hell on the rack to do it."

"Dean!" Castiel snapped, grabbing his friend by the arm. "This won't solve anything."

"Let me go," Dean growled, jerking his arm away.

But Castiel stood firmly in front of him. "I will not let you destroy your life. Sam would not want this!"

"Sam's dead!" Dean shouted, pain and fury mixing in a way that nearly choked him.

"Look at you!" Castiel snapped. "I know you're hurting, and so am I! Sam is my brother too, Dean, you think this isn't killing me too? But I'll be damned if I lose both of you!"

"I don't have anything left!" Dean snarled.

"You have me," Castiel told him firmly. "And you have this kingdom that you and Sam built, and loyal followers who genuinely care about you. Do not throw that away with mistrust and grief!"

Dean slammed his hand against the wall again, but this time it was more to steady himself. "I can't…I can't do this without him, Cas," came the strangled voice. "God, I don't know what to do."

Castiel stepped in and grabbed Dean's shoulder, easing his body against the wall as Dean sagged completely, Castiel's grip acting more as a brace than anything.

"He's my little brother," Dean choked out, burying his face in his hands. "I can't…what the hell am I gonna do?"

Castiel grabbed Dean tight as his friend completely collapsed, finally letting out the grief he had been keeping bottled up. Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean's and closed his eyes as wetness seeped from under the lids, feeling Dean's body shudder against him, as his hands tightened in Castiel's coat.

He didn't have the answers because he didn't know what they were going to do either.


	3. Chapter 3

After an indeterminate amount of time, Dean finally straightened up, rubbing his face as clean as possible on his shirt and gave Cas a grateful look, squeezing his shoulder. He shouldn't have forgotten his friend was hurting as much as he was. He just couldn't think of anything else when Sammy was…

He shook himself, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady what was left of him. Breaking down now wasn't going to help anyone. "Come on, let's go see if they've brought Dorian in yet."

Cas nodded and they left Tartarus, the place Dean hated most in Hell, and got back to Hell Proper.

He knew something was wrong as soon as they got there, hearing the hushed conversation and the flurry of activity. Dean shared a look with Cas and they hurried to the throne room.

Winston was there with his men playing crowd control as Dean and Cas pushed through.

"Out of the way," Dean snapped, finally getting to the center of the crowd where a body lay stretched out on the floor between two guards. Dean vaguely recognized it as the demon Dorian.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded.

"Sir," a demon named Jason, one of Winston's most trusted, addressed him. "We apprehended Dorian, but he refused to come in."

"So you stabbed him?" Cas asked blandly.

Jason shook his head. "No, sir. He stabbed himself. He said…he said he would rather die than be an example for his comrades—his words, sir."

Dean ran a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. Cas took his shoulder and pulled him several feet away. "At least we know it was him now."

"Yeah, but we have no idea what else Asmodeus might be planning," Dean replied quietly. "He could be on his way here any minute."

Cas' face showed his concern. "Still…perhaps these 'comrades' of his know."

"So back to interrogation," Dean growled, fingers already twitching, the rage beginning to seep in again with his reignited desperation. "Maybe they did something with Sam's soul."

Cas was silent, but his face showed his disapproval and Dean couldn't really blame him. Honestly, he was tired. All he wanted to do was lie down and never get back up. He felt like he had already tried everything and all he had gotten for his troubles was one failure after another.

"Come on," Cas told him suddenly, nodding to the antechamber that led back to their suite. "You need to sit for a moment, eat something…"

"I'm not hungry," Dean grunted.

"You haven't eaten since last night," Cas reminded him gently.

Dean rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Maybe some coffee." He turned back to Jason. "Deal with the body. Winston, see if you and your men can track down any of Dorian's so-called 'comrades'."

The Captain nodded and Dean finally followed Cas back to the suite.

The smell of coffee wafted from the room and Dean was suddenly never quite so grateful for Wheatly as he was in that moment.

"Master Winchester," Wheatly greeted as he poured a fresh cup for Dean the instant he walked into the room. Dean noticed there was also a selection of cold cuts and cheese and other sandwich fixings set out on the table. His stomach twisted at the thought of eating, but he knew he had to keep his strength up as well.

"Thanks, Wheatly," he said, genuinely grateful.

The coffee made him feel a little more human, which allowed the agony and the loss to creep in past the anger that had been driving him since he found Sam lying there in the hotel courtyard in Vegas. He sank onto the couch, and wondered briefly if he would ever get up again. He glanced toward the slightly open door to Sam's room, from that angle, only able to see the toes of his shoes and Juliet lying across them.

"What is our next course of action, sir?" Wheatly asked him.

"I don't know," Dean said truthfully. "And frankly I don't give a damn either." He somehow pushed himself to his feet and made his way to Sam's room, feeling Cas and Wheatly share a look behind him, but they didn't try to follow.

Dean hesitated just a second before he stepped inside and went over to the side of the bed. Someone, probably Wheatly, had dressed Sam in his suit and there was something about him that looked like a king in repose. If he'd had a sword and a crown it would have completed the picture.

Juliet whined and raised her head slightly, her black eyes simply dark, no hellfire smoldering in them now. Dean took a shuddering breath and reached out to pet her gently. "I miss him too, girl," he said simply, choking on those words. Juliet licked his hand in shared sympathy before she lowered her head across Sam's ankles once again.

Dean finally turned to look at his brother's resting face. He was deathly pale, sallow. Everything about this reminded Dean of Cold Oak, and how he had rashly gone off to sell his soul, thus starting…well, _everything._ But he knew he would do it again now in a heartbeat if it would bring Sammy back. There was never anything in the world he wouldn't do for his brother.

"There ain't no me if there ain't no you, kiddo," he whispered to the cold figure, repeating something he'd said what felt like a lifetime ago. "I'm not gonna leave you like this forever. I swear it."

He reached out and instinctively brushed a few strands of hair off Sam's forehead before he quickly drew back at the brush of cold flesh. He curled his hand into a fist and pressed his knuckles to his mouth, trying to hold back another bout of grief that threatened to overwhelm him.

It was all too much, and he knew that if he stayed there looking at his brother's corpse another second, he would probably lie down next to him and give up entirely. So he turned around and forced himself to walk out of the room, back to the couch where he sank down, feeling like he weighed a thousand pounds.

He didn't realize he had sunk sideways until he was aware of Cas pulling a blanket over him. He wanted to protest, but instead, his eyes simply slid shut and he sank into a merciful sleep.

~~~~~~~

" _Crowley?!"_

Sam stared at the familiar figure in shock before scrambling to his feet. "What…where the hell am I?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You're dead, which, if I'm being honest, is a bit disappointing—if not surprising. Honestly, I suppose it's a miracle you and your brother outlasted even the first year of your position."

"Wait, I don't understand," Sam said, trying to make sense of any of this. "What is this place, and why are you…here?"

"You're in the Empty, Moose," Crowley explained with mock patience as if Sam were slow.

"The Empty?" Sam asked in a hushed voice, eyes widening as he glanced around at the pure void. _This_ was the Empty? Well, it looked like a place called the Empty, he supposed, and Billie had said that the next time they died they would end up there, but still… "I don't…I don't understand," he stammered.

Crowley gave a longsuffering sigh. "You know, I always secretly knew your brother was the smart one. It's about the contract, Sam. When you signed it, you didn't really become a demon, but you didn't really stay human either. At least not enough to be sent to Heaven or Hell. Not a monster, so you don't go the Purgatory and where, pray tell, does that leave, if none of those?"

"The Empty?" Sam asked unnecessarily.

"Now you're getting it," Crowley said. "And me, I'm here to play Virgil to your Dante. For what good that will do you."

"What do you mean?" Sam demanded. "Do you know how to get me out of here?"

"You can't get out of here from the inside," Crowley told him. "But you are still mostly human; you have an actual, mostly uncorrupted soul, and hopefully a body—unless your brother got ambitious with the funeral pyre—and if someone were to care enough, they could pull you out from the other side. Providing they knew you were in here."

Sam inhaled sharply. Would Dean and Cas even know he was here? And, oh god, Dean…Sam didn't even want to know what his brother was going through right now. Probably tearing up Hell…and on that topic, Dean and Cas and everyone else could be in huge danger from Asmodeus. He knew it was no accident that that demon had found him so easily. In fact…he didn't know if Dean and Cas were even still alive or if they'd been taken out as well. Though, considering they weren't here, that probably meant they were still in the land of the living, though for how much longer?

"I have to get out of here," Sam said, glancing around for any indication of a way to go.

"Hold it," Crowley snapped. "I'm telling you, you're not getting out of here alone. But if you can let your brother know you're here, well, then he and the choir boy might be able to do something."

"And how am I supposed to get a message to him?" Sam demanded.

Crowley looked at him incredulously. "Do you have any idea the powers I gifted you with? That contract took months to put together, I bled for it—literally. It's more than just a contract, I imbued you and Dean with some of my power—a lot less sexy than it sounds, believe me."

"I know about the powers, you told me about them in the notebook you left," Sam said.

"Well, you must not have read much," Crowley snipped. "Your natural alacrity for psychic power due to Azazel's… _modifications_ , if you will, gives you some perks you, with your insufferably thick skull, probably didn't even realize you had. For example, certain powers of telepathy."

Sam's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'm beginning to rethink every decision I made now that I'm staring at your big, dumb, gaping mouth," Crowley growled, but explained patiently. "Look, you should be able to contact Dean, or maybe Castiel if your brother's too dense to hear you. Just try to concentrate, and open your mind."

"Crowley I've never done anything like this before!" Sam snapped.

"Which is why I'm helping you," the demon snapped back. "Look, you know what the Empty is, right?"

"Yeah, it's where angels and demons go when they die," Sam said. "And…me apparently."

"Well, you thought Purgatory was bad for your brother, but that was just all the smalltime monsters you and you two had killed over the years. Tell me, what was the race of every really big-time baddie you Winchesters fought?"

Sam suddenly felt his stomach drop. Oh god, Crowley was right. Azazel, Lilith, Abaddon, Alastair, not to mention all the angels they had pissed off like Zachariah and Raphael... Yeah, they had a lot of enemies there.

"I can see you're finally understanding," Crowley said. "And having you here, with your very distinctive soul signature is going to disrupt things, and as soon as word gets around that you're here, why, you, Sam Winchester are dead meat. Not to mention how nasty the being that rules the Empty itself is. Think Lovecraft on steroids with a good dose of sociopathic sadism."

Sam just stared at him, not wanting to hear this.

"Now," Crowley said, sitting again and patting the spot on the ground in front of him. "Sit down, go into a trance or whatever you need to do, but _concentrate_ on sending a message to your brother."

Sam sank to the ground and tried to clear his mind enough to even attempt to do what Crowley was asking him. He was way out of his league here, but if this was his only chance, he had to try. Not only to save himself, but to save Dean and Cas and the rest of Hell as well.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Okay, tell me what I need to do."

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean was standing in total blackness. A blackness void of anything. He was sure he was dreaming, and yet something about this felt different, like something had been tugging on him to bring him here._

_He looked around, but all he saw was more darkness._

_"Hello?" he called, his voice oddly muffled even to his own ears. No echoes, the sound was simply swallowed by the blackness._

_And then he felt a presence at his back and he spun around again, and saw Sam sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed as if he were doing yoga._

_"Sam?" Dean asked cautiously._

_His brother's eyes flew open, looking surprised. His lips moved in Dean's name, but no sound came from his mouth. He tried again, then pressed his lips together._

"Dean," _Sam's voice finally came, speaking directly into Dean's head._

_"Sam?" he called, stepping slowly toward his brother as if afraid he would disappear. "What is this?"_

"Have to get out _," Sam said, even as he began to fade away. He clutched his forehead as if he had a headache, and gritted his teeth._ "Find me!" _he insisted before his form flickered away entirely._

_"Sam!" Dean cried, running to the spot his brother had disappeared, but the darkness was fading around him, turning to blinding light…_

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean shot up_ with a gasp, Sam's name on his lips.

"Dean?"

Cas was at his side as Dean fought with the blanket covering him, nearly falling over the side of the couch. He ignored the angel and surged upright, running to Sam's room.

He stopped in the doorway as his brother's still corpse was the only thing there. Juliet pricked her ears at him but didn't get up. He slumped against the doorjamb, running a hand across his face.

"Dean, what's wrong?" Cas asked, worry crossing his features.

"I…I don't know, it was really weird," Dean said, trying to piece together what had happened.

"Was it a dream?" Cas asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Dean replied honestly. "It didn't feel like a dream, it was more like, a…a vision? And Sammy was there, trying to talk to me, but he was having a hard time. Like…hell, I don't know."

Dean turned around and closed the door again.

"Like what?" Cas pressed, a frown furrowing his brow.

"Like he was trying to contact me psychically, but…" Dean shook his head. "I'm seeing things."

"Perhaps," Cas said, but actually didn't sound convinced. "Dean…what did it look like? Where exactly did you see Sam?"

Dean closed his eyes as he tried to recall. "It was…nothing. Black, but not dark, just…a void. And Sammy was just sitting there with his eyes closed like he was doing yoga breathing, until he saw me and he looked…surprised. I swear, Cas, it felt like it was actually him. It didn't feel like just some dream."

Cas didn't seem to be listening to him anymore. He looked like he was doing calculations. "I didn't…I don't know why I didn't think of it before."

Dean snapped out of his own troubled thoughts to turn to the angel. "What? What didn't you think of before?"

"The reason we can't find Sam here or in Heaven," Cas said grimly, taking a seat at the table, and propping his chin against his hand as he shook his head. "Dean, it's possible that, because of his demonic nature, he _can't_ go to either Heaven or Hell."

"What are you saying?" Dean demanded. "Is he in the veil? A ghost?"

"No," Cas replied. "I think…I think Sam might be in the Empty."

Dean felt his heart freeze in his chest. He remembered Billie's threats about throwing them into the Empty, but…

"You think he's in the _Empty_?" Dean demanded.

Cas raised his hand in a helpless gesture. "Considering we haven't found his soul yet I can't think of any other explanation."

"He said to find him, that he had to get out. How do we do that?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," Cas replied grimly, standing up again. "But he's right. He can't stay there. Dean, every angel and demon you've killed, every enemy you've ever had is there. If they get to Sam before we do…"

Dean felt sick. "There has to be something. A back way into the Empty from here maybe? I mean, this is Hell, there should be something, right?"

"I don't know, I'm going to go find Wheatly," Cas said, heading toward the door.

As soon as he left, Dean went back to Sam's room and leaned down to speak directly into his ear. He didn't know if Sam would be able to hear him on the other side. Probably not, but if he could, then Dean wanted him to know that he had gotten his message.

"Cas and I are coming for you, Sammy. Just hold on, okay? We're getting you out of there."

~~~~~~~

" _What do you mean,_ you don't know?" Dean demanded.

Wheatly, to his credit, didn't flinch. He simply stood there with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Master Winchester, but there is most assuredly no way into the Empty from Hell. That much I do know. And as for how to get into it…well, I simply don't have an answer for you."

"Then who does?" Dean demanded. "Is there any demon here who would know?"

"I highly doubt it, sir," Wheatly told him.

"Dean, Crowley spent months interrogating monsters to find out how to open a way to Purgatory," Cas spoke up. "If even that knowledge wasn't here in the archives, then I'm sure getting into the Empty isn't."

"Okay, then we need to think of something else. Someone else who would know…" He cocked his head to one side. "And I might know someone."

Cas seemed to see where he was going. "Rowena?"

Dean nodded. "Rowena."

"If she'll even talk to us," Cas said grimly. "She was not very happy after what happened to Crowley. She might still blame us for his death."

"Or she might have had enough time to see reason," Dean replied. Not that he was planning on giving her a lot of choice if she refused. But she still had the Black Grimoire and the Book of the Damned, and between those _one_ of them had to have something that could help them get into the Empty.

"I'll call her," Cas offered.

Dean nodded, pacing. He was full of excess energy now that they knew there might be a way to save Sam. Really, there _had_ to be. Dean shuddered at the thought of Sam being trapped in a place that was full of their worst enemies. Purgatory had been bad enough. But this…this might just be as bad as the Cage.

"Yes, I know," Cas was saying, exasperation creeping into his voice. "But…yes. No, I'll meet you at the bunker. Rowena, thank you."

Dean looked at him in surprise as he ended the call. "She's actually going to help?"

Cas nodded, looking just as surprised. "Yes, shockingly. She wasn't entirely thrilled at first, but I guess she decided it was better than having you come after her later for not helping. And she thinks having the King of Hell, who also happens to be a Winchester, owe her a favor is a good thing."

"Of course," Dean muttered, but hadn't really expected anything else. It didn't make any difference to him anyway, as long as Rowena was willing to help he'd give her anything she wanted—well, within reason.

He just really hoped that she had a solution because between Sam being caught in the Empty and Asmodeus out there, readying for his second invasion, they were quickly running out of time.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam groaned and gripped his head as the ache spiked through it right behind his eyes.

"You really need to exercise your psychic muscles," Crowley commented, staring at him balefully from where he sat in front of Sam. "Did you get through at least?"

"I don't know," Sam said. "I think, maybe? I saw Dean for a moment, he was standing there, but I didn't get a chance to say much. Just told him to come and get me."

"Well, big brother instincts will probably do the rest," Crowley said with a roll of his eyes.

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair as the headache dissipated. "What do we do now?"

"Now? We wait," Crowley told him, getting onto his feet again. "And in the meantime, I'll give you a crash course in how to use your powers."

"So you're gonna be my Yoda?" Sam asked wryly as he climbed to his feet. He didn't really want to train right now, but he supposed there really was nothing else to do here.

Crowley smirked. "Only if you call me master, darling."

"Yeah, I'll pass."

"Fair enough." Crowley took a stance. "You see, this is the perfect time to practice, without the weight of your human body dampening your natural power. Practice now, get better results when you're back in your super-sized meatsuit."

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Human bodies are poor conductors. But if you learn how to cheat the system, so to speak, with your natural abilities you can be just as powerful as a Prince of Hell."

Sam glanced at Crowley with surprise. "Do you know about Asmodeus?"

Crowley cocked his head to one side. "Dead demons love gossip just as much as live ones. There's been a lot of talk down here recently. A lot of complaint about the new Knight being a little free with the beheadings—proud to hear that. I'm glad Dean's putting that blade to good use."

"Oh, yes, he's definitely doing that," Sam said wryly.

"I see you aren't doing the same with the suit," Crowley sniffed.

"I was off duty," Sam told him. "But it fits well."

"And how is Juliet?"

Sam smiled. "She's great."

Crowley smiled genuinely at this. "I knew you two would get along."

Sam smiled a little sadly, knowing he hadn't just left a brother and a best friend back in Hell. Juliet was probably distraught. She'd been bad enough after Crowley's death. He had to get back quickly.

"So, you defeated Asmodeus once," Crowley commented.

"Yeah, barely," Sam said. "He was still able to control me. If I didn't have the Scythe of Kronos the outcome might have been a different story."

Crowley nodded. "And he won't make the same mistakes again. He's smart—not like Azazel was, doesn't quite have the cunning, but he does okay. His rage and pride are his downfall, but there's no guarantee you'll be able to use that against him again. You'll have to be stronger the next time you face him. If you are, he won't be able to control you, and you might be able to manipulate him."

Sam nodded slowly, and Crowley took up a wide-footed stance in front of him.

"But enough talk. Show me what you can do." Crowley told him, waving a hand. "And remember, I'm already dead, so give me your best shot."

Sam took his own stance and summoned his power before releasing it toward Crowley.

He was shocked as the burst of energy barreled into the demon and Crowley flew back several yards through the air before crashing down and rolling to a halt.

Crowley grunted as he picked himself up. "Well, at the very least you have a natural talent."

"I've never been able to do that before," Sam said, still surprised.

"I told you, lack of a body works wonders in the powers department," Crowley said. "If you get used to using that kind of force now, you'll be able to find it later when you're back in your meatsuit. It will be easier to find the gaps."

Sam nodded and Crowley readied himself. "Again."

They practiced for what felt like hours, and might very well have been, though there was no way for Sam to tell time in there. But it was almost miraculous the way he felt using his powers like this. It had never been so easy before, and he found himself trying to exert more and more power and actually being able to do it. He was honestly amazed; he'd never thought he could get to the point where he would be that powerful.

He actually started to believe he might have a chance against Asmodeus the next time they met.

If he ever got out of here.

"Take a break," Crowley called, and Sam collapsed on the ground, not physically tired, but feeling like he should be.

"That was actually amazing," he said, unable to help a small grin.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Don't get too cocky yet. You're getting better but you still have a long way to go, young Skywalker. Not to mention the practice you'll have to do once you get your body back."

Sam shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to get better at that too. Can you show me more about the telepathy stuff?"

"I don't know if it will work between us. We might have shared a few moments but I'm no big brother."

"What else are we going to do?" Sam demanded, already feeling restless.

Crowley rolled his eyes again. "I suppose we can try it."

"Just don't go poking around it my head," Sam warned.

"You forget I've already _been_ in your head. Not really all that exciting. Just angst, and a plethora of mostly pointless knowledge."

Sam frowned, but listened to Crowley's instructions as he closed his eyes and tried to reach out.

He felt something, but it was not Crowley.

Curious, he probed a little deeper, and in the darkness, two eyes suddenly opened.

Yellow eyes.

Sam gasped and yanked his eyes open, a headache behind them again. He nearly fell over.

"What?" Crowley demanded.

"I…I…" Sam wasn't sure what to say, but he could feel the presence still, coming closer, and not in the realm of his mind anymore.

Crowley seemed to notice as well now and climbed to his feet.

"We need to go," he said sharply.

"Too late."

Sam and Crowley spun around to see that another figure had appeared in the void, a leer and yellow eyes cutting through Sam like he was made of paper.

"Hey, Sammy," Azazel said, a grin spreading across his thin lips. "It's been a long, long time."

~~~~~~~

" _Well, it's certainly a lot_ cozier than the last time I was here, I'll give you that."

Castiel rolled his eyes as he led Rowena through Hell Proper toward the suite. "Yes, well, the Winchesters have been spending a lot more time here of late, so they saw fit to make it more…homey."

"Well, it could still use a good decorator, a woman's touch, but och weel." She flapped a hand dismissively before giving Castiel a sideways glance. "I will say that black really is your color, though, Castiel."

Castiel ignored her flirtatious smile and passed the guards standing outside the suite, opening the door for Rowena.

"My, what a gentleman," she cooed as she stepped inside.

Castiel glanced up to see Dean and Wheatly talking quietly, but they looked up as he and Rowena entered.

"Rowena," Dean said cautiously.

"Dean," Rowena replied, just as cautiously. "I'd like to offer my condolences."

"Yeah, well, hopefully you won't have to," Dean snapped, then amended. "Um…thanks for coming."

"Please, dear," Rowena said with a sigh as she placed her bag onto the table. "Despite everything, I do consider Sam a friend, and you as well. And it's not the worst thing in the world for a Winchester to owe you one. Especially now that you're moving up in the world—or, perhaps I should say _down_."

Dean and Castiel shared a look as Wheatly placed a tray on the table.

"Tea or coffee, Ma'am?" the steward asked.

Rowena looked very pleased, giving the demon a sweep with her eyes. "My, and you have your own butler now too!"

"Hell's Steward, Ma'am, but I perform various duties," Wheatly replied with a little bit of bite that made Rowena smirk. Castiel rolled his eyes, knowing from experience that this could get out of hand quickly. He shot Wheatly a sharp look.

"Well, you do have quite the set-up here," she commented and sat down. "Tea, if you will."

As Wheatly served the drinks Castiel and Dean took their own seats on either side of Rowena.

"Okay, that's enough pleasantries, we need to figure out how to get Sam out of the Empty as quickly as possible," Dean told her.

"Yes, and as I was telling Castiel on the way here, I have several options for you, but none of them are simple."

Dean looked at Castiel as the angel sighed. "Apparently, short of opening a rift, which could let out all manner of uninvited guests, there's no easy way into the Empty."

"And I'm not touching the Necronomicon—even if I did know where it was. That's once book I will not mess with." Rowena shuddered, taking a dainty sip of her tea.

Castiel saw Wheatly smirk and frowned, but decided to leave that for a later discussion.

"Then what are the options?" Dean asked. "You said you'd help."

"And I will," Rowena assured him defensively. She sighed and folded her hands in front of her, leaning toward Castiel and Dean. "Look, there's a couple ways to do this, but the easiest way for you to go in after him is, well, the same way Sam got there."

"To die, you mean," Castiel said blandly.

"How the hell is that gonna help Sam?" Dean demanded.

"I wasn't finished," Rowena told him, reaching into her bag. "Are you familiar with the concept of astral projection?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, um, Sam and I did that before, a psychic friend of ours set it up."

"Good," Rowena said as she pulled out a leather-bound notebook. "Well, one of the spells I have is essentially like astral projection. You'd be dead for all intents and purposes, but with a lifeline, so to speak." She reached back into the bag and pulled out a small pouch, spilling out several stone pendants. She picked one up, showing them the sigil carved into it. "This would act as an anchor. You would wear it here, and also have it out there in the Empty. When you find Sam, you will give him one to connect it to the one we'll put on his body, thus pulling his soul back just like we would with yours."

"Okay," Dean said cautiously. "And you're sure this will work?"

"Well, as with everything, there's always a chance something could go wrong, but the spell attached to these charms _will_ work. The only catch is that you'll have only twenty-four hours and you'll have to return to the place you came in."

"How will we know where that is?" Dean demanded. "That place looks like nothing."

"You'll know," Rowena assured him.

"And what if we can't find Sam in that time?" Dean asked.

Rowena shrugged helplessly. "This is the best option I have. You can always perform the spell again if need be, but it can be quite draining—you will be dead, after all."

Dean glanced toward Castiel and the angel gave him a small nod.

"I'll do it," Dean told Rowena.

"And so will I," Castiel added firmly.

Dean glanced over at him with a frown. "Whoa, wait, someone needs to stay here to watch over everything."

"And you seriously think I'm going to let you go in there alone?" Castiel said blandly.

Dean's jaw was clenched but before he could say anything else, Wheatly stepped forward. "Winston and I will gather the best guards to watch over your bodies, Master Winchester. There will be nothing to worry about. And I agree with the angel…you should have someone to watch your back in there."

Dean narrowed his eyes at him briefly, but sighed. "Fine. You're right."

"It's settled then," Rowena said. "I just need to set up the spell and we'll be ready."

Castiel and Dean watched as she assembled several ingredients into a bowl and mixed them up into a rather unappealing concoction.

"Let me guess, we have to drink that?" Dean asked blandly.

Rowena smiled. "Of course, dear."

"Awesome," Dean muttered.

Once it was finished, they made their way to Sam's room. Rowena sobered as she saw him lying there, and let out a small sigh, pulling one of the talismans out and placing it into Sam's cold hand, wrapping his fingers around it and anchoring it with the leather thong.

"There's only one problem, boys," she said. "It won't do much good for Sam to come back to a body with a hole through his heart."

Dean's breath caught in his throat and Castiel stared at the red-headed woman. He hadn't even thought of that.

"Then what the hell do we do?" Dean demanded.

Castiel glanced at Sam's corpse, stepping closer before he cautiously reached out to unbutton the shirt to where the bullet wound was.

"Cas, what are you doing?" Dean asked.

Juliet looked up at him, ears pricked. Castiel closed his eyes and set his hand against the bullet wound, praying this would work.

He pushed some healing power into Sam's body…

The flesh knit back together.

He exhaled in relief and pulled his hand away, seeing the smooth flesh of Sam's chest, no bullet hole marring it anymore.

Dean was staring at him. "Cas…how did you do that? I thought…"

Castiel shook his head, buttoning up Sam's shirt again carefully. "His soul is no longer in his body, thus the demonic taint…it's gone, leaving me able to heal his body."

Dean swallowed hard, looking a little disappointed, and Castiel was as well. He wished more than anything that he could still heal the Winchesters, but at least he had been able to do this. Sam should be fine when he came back to his body.

"Well, shall we?" Rowena asked.

They left Sam's door open and headed to Dean's room. Rowena set two cups with the mixture in them down on the side table. Wheatly stood off to one side, arms folded over his chest as he watched silently.

"Everything you have on you now will go in with you," Rowena told them, handing them the talismans which they looped around their necks.

They each armed themselves with angel blades and Dean grabbed his katana and the demon knife as well, slinging his sword over one shoulder.

"Remember, only twenty-four hours," Rowena told them. "You must return to the place you came in. I'll know when you get there and I'll perform the spell to call you back then."

Dean took out his phone and set the timer. "And what happens after that if we don't get back to the right spot?"

"It will be harder for me to reach you," Rowena said. "If you wait too much longer…well, I won't be able to pull you back."

Dean nodded and took a deep breath and reached for one of the cups. "Well, let's do this."

Castiel grabbed the other cup and Rowena pulled a chair up to the side of the bed.

"You probably want to sit down. It will act fast," she warned them.

Castiel and Dean both sat on opposite sides of the bed before Dean nodded to the angel, raising the cup in a toast before he downed it.

Castiel also downed his and even as he swallowed, he could feel the effects starting to take place.

He eased himself back on the bed as Dean crashed down beside him, both of them staring up at the ceiling. Castiel blinked and tried to clear his vision with a groan.

"Don't fight it," Rowena told them, her voice already sounding far away.

Castiel felt Dean fall limp beside him, with one last exhalation of breath, and he finally let the potion overwhelm him as well, darkening his vision until he was floating in nothing but blackness.

_~~~~~~~_

_Sam stared in horror_ at Azazel, standing there in the nothing like he hadn't been dead for almost thirteen years now.

Crowley took a step toward Sam's shoulder in almost a protective gesture, or perhaps he was instead putting himself in a position that he would be able to jump _behind_ Sam if anything were to go wrong.

"Azazel," Sam said flatly.

The Prince of Hell grinned. "Been a while, hasn't it? But I'd know the feel of you powered up anywhere, and honestly, I'm surprised, Sammy. I thought you wanted nothing to do with those powers."

"Well, to be fair, those aren't the powers you gave me," Sam replied. "A lot has gone on since Dean shot you."

"Yes, I'm sure, you've certainly grown up." His eyes swept Sam almost proudly, then settled on Crowley. "But made some poor choices in friends, I see."

"I don't know," Sam said with a shrug. "I think, all things considered, I did all right."

"Maybe you have. I've heard things—that you're King of Hell now. Honestly, I'm impressed. Looks like my boy grew up."

"I wouldn't be so cocky, it had little to do with you," Crowley sniffed, and grabbed Sam's arm. "Come on, Sam."

"Wait," Azazel said. "Why the rush? I didn't go through all the trouble of waking up and searching you out just to let you go again. I think it's time you showed me what you can do."

"That's not a good idea, and you know it," Crowley growled at the other demon. "Sam, don't let him push you into this, let's go."

"What's wrong?" Sam asked Crowley, seeing the demon's agitation and wondering what he was worried about. After all, what could Azazel even do to him if he was already dead?

"Don't worry about him, Sam," Azazel said. "Come on, I've been stuck here for far too long, I need a little entertainment. Show me what you can do!"

"Sam, do not—"

Crowley started to warn Sam again but Azazel raised a hand and blasted him backwards, even further than Sam had earlier. The younger Winchester turned with shock to see Crowley slam into the ground with a muffled grunt, then barely turned back around in time to see Azazel only feet away from him, a nasty grin on his face.

"And now, we'll have the fight we always should have had, Sam. Never mind that Dean robbed us of it. Perhaps it was simply meant to be in the afterlife. Show me all you have learned, my boy."

His powers wrapped around Sam's throat, choking him. He grasped the nothing around his throat, as he tried to summon his own power and used it to strengthen a punch he threw at Azazel's solar plexus. His knuckles barely skimmed the demon's chest, but Azazel flew backwards from the force.

He managed to keep his feet, skidding to a halt in a crouching position. He rose up, laughing.

"Well! I will say this, Sam, you have quite the power. I'm very impressed, actually."

"Good," Sam said and blasted another supercharged force of power at the Prince of Hell, hitting him and sending him in a tumbling sprawl across the ground.

Crowley was back now, grabbing Sam's sleeve. "We need to go!" he hissed.

"Because of Azazel?" Sam asked.

Crowley shook his head in exasperation. "No, it's…I should have told you before, but I didn't think it would be a problem with you simply training. But if Azazel could feel your power then _It_ definitely will."

"What are you talking about?" Sam demanded, turning as Azazel started to charge again, and smashed a blast of power into Sam and Crowley both before they could act in defense.

Sam hit the ground and rolled, gasping for breath. Not that he needed to breathe here, he realized suddenly, but it was a simple reaction.

He crawled onto his hands and knees, already summoning his power to be ready for Azazel's next attack, when the ground began to shift underneath him.

Azazel was already on his feet, but as soon as the shifting started, he looked down, taking a step back.

"Dammit," he cursed and to Sam's shock, turned around and ran.

"What the hell?" Sam demanded.

"Exactly what I was trying to warn you about," Crowley growled, as he scrambled to his feet.

"What is this?" Sam cried.

"It's the Empty," Crowley said in defeat.

As if invoked, tendrils of blackness shot up from the ground and grabbed hold of Sam.


	5. Chapter 5

The last thing Dean remembered was shutting his eyes and collapsing on the bed. Now, as he opened them again, he found himself in complete blackness and deafening silence. He blinked to make sure he actually did have his eyes open.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he pushed himself upright, to find himself staring at Cas who was sitting up beside him.

"Is this it?" Dean asked, subconsciously patting down his body, half expecting himself to feel like a ghost.

Cas nodded, then reached up to his throat where the medallion Rowena had given him rested. "Yes." He tucked the stone into his collar and stood up, offering Dean a hand.

Dean rose, also tucking his medallion into his shirt for safe keeping. He checked the safe inside pocket of his duster for the second stone that would be given to Sam upon finding him. "Okay, so step one complete. Now how do we find Sam? And another question: how do we find our way back here once we do that?"

Cas glanced around, then turned his eyes down to their feet. "Look." He pointed, stepping aside.

Dean glanced down at the spot they had been lying on and his eyes widened. There was a glowing sigil on the ground that matched the ones on their pendants.

"I assume we step on this when we get back, to let Rowena know we're here," Cas offered.

Dean pulled his phone out, checking the timer, and nodded. "Okay, well, let's go then."

And with determined stride, they made their way into the nothingness shoulder to shoulder.

_~~~~~~~_

_Sam cried out as the_ tendrils of blackness yanked him from the ground, wrapping around his body and forcing his arms to his sides.

"Crowley!" he cried as he saw the demon scrambling away from the sudden eruption. He gritted his teeth. Not that he had expected help from that quarter really, but seriously? He thought Crowley was past the running away stage; after all, he was already dead!

"Winchester," the sibilant, nasally hiss came a second before the darkness slammed Sam to the ground, pinning him fast. The tendrils of darkness wrapped around his body pulled tight, causing his ribs to ache and nearly choke him as one tightened around his throat.

"I'd heard whispers about you," the voice continued and there was a burbling in the ground next to Sam. "I should have known you would cause trouble."

Sam struggled, watching in horror as the ground molded upward into an amorphous shape that took on a vaguely humanoid appearance, a featureless head staring down as a horrible maw opened in the black ichor into some hellish grin.

"But you're mine now, and you've woken me up. I don't like being woken up, you insignificant pustule! So I'm going to put you back to sleep, but not until I teach you a lesson so you won't try anything so stupid again!"

Sam tried to thrash free, but more of the ichor wrapped around him, one band covering his mouth. The other tendrils were shifting, shoving their way under Sam's clothes and crawling across his skin. The harder he fought, the tighter they held him and he could barely move at all as the tendrils turned to bladelike sharpness and punched their way into his body.

Sam screamed past the black band gagging him and the Empty creature stood over him, laughing as it watched him struggle. The agony was like nothing Sam had experienced before. It wasn't just a physical assault, it was one directed toward his soul. It reminded him all too much of being locked in the Cage with Lucifer…

In a frantic attempt, he tried to reach out to Dean with his new-found telepathic skills. He tried to concentrate through the pain, and could almost feel Dean's presence…almost…

A hand slammed down on his forehead, and Sam's eyes shot open, staring at the faceless void that belonged to the Empty.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. No, you're all alone now, Sam Winchester. You're all mine."

Its fingers transformed into thin, vine-like tendrils and burrowed under his skin and into his skull. Sam screamed in agony, until the tendril of darkness over his mouth pushed between his lips and down his throat, silencing him effectively.

Despair set in as he realized there was no escape.

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean and Cas were_ traveling aimlessly until Dean felt a strange ping at the back of his mind. He stopped.

Cas glanced over at him worriedly. "Dean? What is it?"

Dean rubbed his head, which was aching dully, then closed his eyes.

A vision flashed across his eyelids, Sam buried under a pile of black tentacles, body arched in pain…

It was gone as soon as it appeared, but the force of the image caused him to stagger.

"Dean!" Cas grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

"It's Sam," he grunted. "I can feel him. I think I can…" He glanced up, looking around before he felt like an unseen string was drawn taut. "There! I think we have to go this way!"

"Was it another vision?" Cas asked as he followed Dean with a little more caution. Dean didn't blame him. If he hadn't been so certain that the visions came from Sam—could feel that they did—he would have been more cautions as well.

"Yeah. I don't know how he's doing it, getting these messages out, but I know it's him, Cas."

The angel didn't argue, and simply kept pace with Dean as they hurried along to their brother's rescue.

He was so busy following what vestige of Sam's consciousness he somehow seemed to be locked into, that he wasn't aware at first of the feeling of being watched.

It took him several paces to realize Cas had stopped behind him, glancing around the seemingly void landscape.

"Dean," the angel called him back quietly.

Dean turned, frowning. "What is it?" He poised for action, his hand reaching back to grasp the hilt of the katana that rested across his back.

Cas didn't have a chance to reply because a figure materialized out from the nothing behind him, reaching out.

"Cas!" Dean shouted in warning, ripping his blade from the sheath and charging.

Cas was grabbed around the throat and thrown several yards before he could turn and draw his blade. He landed with a grunt and Dean was already rushing their attacker.

Only to stop in his tracks as the figure turned around to face him.

"Dean, Dean, Dean," said the all-too-familiar voice, with unmasked pleasure. "It's been a long time."

"Alastair," Dean breathed, taking in the figure standing before him as he saw Cas climbing back to his feet.

"That's right," Alastair grinned unpleasantly. "Heard through the grapevine that your brother was here, but I have to say this is so much better than I imagined. After all, no lies, you always were my favorite."

Dean brandished his katana as Cas returned to his side, his own angel blade in hand.

"You're dead," Dean snarled.

Alastair sighed wearily. "Yes, and your brother killed me, which is why I would rather enjoy giving him a taste of my razor. But what you don't realize is that down here, you might be dead but you can still feel pain." He cocked his head to one side. "It's rather like it was in Hell. Which, by the way, Dean, I am proud of you. I never in my wildest dreams thought you'd make Knight, but it does suit you. Not quite as well as my razor in your hand, but…I like to think a little of my influence got through."

"Think again," Dean snarled, but his stomach twisted all the same. Hadn't he just been torturing demons back in Hell? Using all the training Alastair had given him? His pale face and set jaw caught Alastair's attention and the demon's grin widened.

"Oh, I see. What's this, my boy? Didn't put the razor away after all? Didn't I tell you all those years ago, all those even more countless years in Hell, while I trained you both off and on the rack that you were a natural?"

"Shut up," Cas snapped before Dean could form words, placing himself firmly between Dean and the demon. "Your hold on him was broken long ago."

Alastair groaned, rolling his eyes. "Yes, you angels, you keep enjoying lording that over me, and you're the worst of them—I saved Dean Winchester from Perdition! Well, I warned you, Castiel, that I wouldn't let you do the same thing twice. I would have had him back then when your trap failed if it hadn't been little brother coming to the rescue."

"That is far in the past," Cas snapped. "And if you think I will ever let you touch Dean again, you're very, very wrong."

Alastair straightened, cocking his head to one side as he eyed the angel. "Well, I wouldn't mind putting that to the test. After all, I think we both deserve a rematch. If I recall correctly, I beat you into the ground last time."

"Alright, enough!" Dean snapped, stepping forward again, pushing Cas aside. His hands were trembling, sweaty on his sword hilt, but he only gripped it tighter and raised his chin to stare down his nose at his old mentor. "We don't have time for you. I came here to get my brother, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do. And if you get in my way, I'll take you out, Alastair."

The demon grinned. "Will you now? Try me…if you can."

"Yeah, I can," Dean said, casually checking the sharpness of his blade on his thumb. "What was it you said earlier? You can feel pain down here but you won't die? Well, I guess one out of two ain't bad." He flicked his eyes to black and lunged before Alastair saw what was coming, Cas instantly jumping in as well.

Dean swept his sword at Alastair and when the demon dodged and grabbed his wrist, Cas jumped behind him, slashing him across the back with the angel blade.

Alastair gave a shout of pain, arching his back and Dean kicked his leg out from under him, freed his arm, and whipped his sword around, cleaving Alastair's head from his neck.

He panted at the sudden adrenaline rush that he felt even though he had no body currently. His eyes flicked back to their normal green and stepped back as Alastair's body toppled before simply disappearing.

Cas eyed the spot Alastair had vanished. "I wonder how long that will last?"

"Don't know," Dean gritted out as he re-sheathed his sword and tugged his coat around him more tightly. "Hopefully long enough for us to find Sam and get the hell out of here." He pulled his phone from his pocket again and saw they had been walking for three hours already. Dean cursed under his breath.

"Are you all right?" Cas asked him quietly.

Dean glanced at him, about to give some typical BS answer but bit his lip instead. "Not really. Just all of this…and seeing Alastair again now… After all this time, I thought I'd be over it, but…" He shrugged helplessly.

Cas, obviously seeing he was rattled, reached out and gripped his shoulder, offering that small amount of support. "It's not true, you know. You're not like him. You never will be. I've told you that before and I still mean it."

Dean swallowed hard, looking away. "You still believe that after what you saw these last couple days?"

Cas sighed. "What you did and what you feel about it are two different things. I know _you_ , Dean. No matter what bad choices you make, you always make them for the right reasons. I'm not so different."

Dean sighed heavily and ran a hand over his hair. "Yeah, well, it doesn't make me feel any less like crap about it."

"Oh, for the love of all that's unholy. The second I find you you're already wingeing about your feelings."

Cas and Dean spun around at the familiar mocking voice.

"Crowley!" they exclaimed together, seeing the demon standing there in his usual suit, his hands in his pockets.

Crowley cocked his head to one side, rolling his eyes. "Surprised? Now can you please stow the emotional man-drama? You'll need your heads about you if you want to save your brother."

_~~~~~~~_

_Wheatly was boiling_ more water for tea when Winston came into the suite, his face grim.

"What's wrong?" Wheatly asked instantly, dreading the answer.

Winston pressed his mouth into a worried line. "The demons are getting restless. My men have already had to arrest two for causing trouble. They want answers, they're scared."

"They must have faith in Master Winchester," Wheatly said firmly.

Winston sighed. "You know as well as I that demons aren't good at that."

Wheatly pulled out a clean teacup and set it on the counter with a deliberate motion. "No, but they are getting better at it. Master Winchester and Castiel be back within twenty-four hours, with His Majesty. If the others refuse to have faith, then I'll just have to have enough for all of us."

He poured the boiling water into the teapot and set the tea service onto a rolling cart. His hand clenched though, betraying his own uneasiness. He had faith in the Winchesters, he truly did, but the same could not be said for his demonic brethren. He knew that they were pushing it already and if more and more of Hell was converted to riot again, there would be nothing he or Winston could do about it.

And if Asmodeus came and found them in chaos…It would all be over.

Winston returned to stand in the doorway to the suite along with his other guards and Wheatly pushed the tea cart into Dean's bedroom where the witch was keeping vigil.

Rowena looked up from her spot in Dean's reading chair, a book perched on her knee.

"Tea, ma'am," Wheatly said, and poured her a cup.

"Why thank you," Rowena said with a grateful, rather flirtatious smile, brushing his hand with hers as he handed her the cup.

Wheatly refrained from sighing at the blatant overtones, glad he'd had lots of practice keeping a professional air. He glanced over at the bowl of spell ingredients waiting on the bedside table, glowing slightly.

"It's been about eight hours now," Rowena commented.

"Yes," Wheatly replied as his gaze slid over to the two still figures lying on the bed. He was glad the angel had insisted on going with Dean. Wheatly knew that Castiel would let nothing stop him from getting the Winchesters both out of there alive. Still, the Empty was a vast place and a fabled nightmare for demons. He had no idea what they could expect down there and worried about his lords' propensity for getting into the worst kinds of trouble.

His hands clenched into even tighter fists. He didn't think he would relax until they were safely back in Hell.

~~~~~~~

" _You know where Sam is?"_ Dean demanded after Crowley had given them a brief greeting.

"I was with him earlier, yes," the demon replied.

"Then why the hell are you not with him now?" Dean demanded.

Crowley huffed a sigh. "Because we have a problem. His arrival had, how shall we say it—caused a bit of a stir here in the Empty. The fact that he's not entirely demon has garnered the interest of quite a few of the occupants down here. Remember how it was when you were in Purgatory?"

Dean swallowed hard. Yeah, he did. He'd been like a monster magnet.

"Unfortunately, the disturbance has in turn disturbed the Empty itself—or, the being in charge of the realm. It got mad, and it has Sam now."

"What?!" Dean and Cas both demanded at the same time.

"Why the hell didn't you stay with him then?" Dean demanded.

Crowley spread his hands. "I can't do anything against it! If I had stayed with Sam all I would have accomplished was getting captured too. I thought you might prefer I come find you and show you where your precious baby brother was."

Dean grunted, but nodded. "Okay, then let's go, we only have…" He pulled his phone from his pocket and gritted his teeth. "Fourteen hours left."

Crowley nodded. "Then we better not waste any of that time."

He led the way, speaking over his shoulder. "By the way, Dean—what the hell are you wearing? If I had known you were going to do something idiotic like that I would have had you something tailor made as well."

"Okay, you know what? I'm not gonna listen to anyone's crap about my coat anymore, especially now," Dean growled.

He thought he caught the slightest smirk in the corner of Cas' mouth and gritted his teeth, shaking his head.

"So this Empty being, or whatever," Dean asked after a few minutes of silence. "How are we supposed to go up against it?"

Crowley glanced over his shoulder. "Very, very carefully."

Dean and Cas shared a glance. "Great," Dean muttered. But he knew that he would do whatever had to be done. After all, when it came to his family, he would face anything.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean anxiously glanced at the display on his phone. They were hitting the halfway mark now and Crowley was still simply leading them in the direction Sam was supposed to be.

"How much further?" Castiel demanded after a while, obviously also starting to get anxious.

"We're close," Crowley said. "But we're going to have to be careful now, because it might notice us approaching."

Dean carefully slid his katana from its sheath, holding it at the ready, noticing Cas doing the same. After a second, Dean reached into his coat and pulled out his spare angel blade, handing it to Crowley.

"Here, you might need this."

Crowley gave him a longsuffering look. "For what good it will do. Our best tactic for this fight is to grab Sam and, as you would so inelegantly put it, 'shag ass'."

A sound echoed out of the void at the same time an image flashed behind Dean's eyes, forcing him to clap a hand to his forehead. Sammy, still wrapped in those disgusting tentacles, blood staining his clothes…

"Sam?" Cas inquired anxiously.

"Sam," Dean confirmed, straightening up and heading toward the sound before Crowley caught him by the elbow.

"Hold on! I told you to use caution, and trust me, I understand how hard that is for you, but at least _try_ for all our sakes."

"Then what do we do?" Dean demanded through gritted teeth.

"Well, luckily for us, the Empty is currently occupied with Moose, otherwise we probably would have been spotted by now," Crowley snipped. "But it might give us a chance to sneak up on it unaware."

"Then let's do it, we don't have a lot of time left," Dean grunted.

The scene seemed to rise out of nowhere. Dean wasn't even entirely sure what he was looking at at first, for it seemed like pillars had risen out of the darkness, and strung between them was Sam, held fast and spread-eagled with the disgusting black ropes which also seemed to be digging into his flesh, one shoved into his mouth to muffle his screams.

It took everything in Dean not to run to his brother, his body tense with the need. Cas gripped his shoulder tightly, but as Dean glanced at his face he felt it was partly because he was trying to remind himself to stay put as well.

But there was nothing there aside from Sam. Dean glanced at Crowley and saw the demon was pale.

"What?" he demanded. "It's gone, let's get Sam and run."

"Wait…" Crowley held up a hand just as the ground exploded with a mass of writhing tentacles which latched onto the three of them, immobilizing their limbs.

Dean strained against the hold, trying to get his katana into position to cut at the vines, but the one around his sword wrist simply squeezed harder and he was forced to drop his blade with a grunt.

A shape emerged from the ground in front of them, vaguely humanoid but the resemblance ended there. The very sight of it made the hairs stand up on the back of Dean's neck and send him into a cold sweat. This was an ancient being, and one that he suspected was purely malicious.

"One Winchester was delightful, but two…" it said in a horrid nasally voice and mimed licking its lips. "You're all so much trouble. I should punish all of you."

"Go ahead," Dean growled. "You think it will change anything? I came for my brother and I'm going to get him out of here. And some black, primordial slime isn't gonna stop me!"

"Oh, is that so, boy?" the Empty sneered and Dean felt the black vines around his wrists and ankles begin to dig into his flesh, slimming down until they slid into his veins, pulsing agony through his body. He cried out, legs giving out. If it weren't for the ropes of darkness holding him up he would have collapsed.

"Dean!" Cas cried, then was cut off with a sharp gasp.

"Silence!" the Empty hissed. "As soon as I'm done with your brother, I'll put you in your place too, and then you'll all have to go back to sleep!"

Dean forced his feet under himself again, his eyes flicking to black as he glowered at the eldritch being. "You think it's gonna be that easy? You don't know us at all."

He yanked hard on the vines holding him and forced one against Cas' outstretched blade that was still in the angel's hand. It severed and Dean spent no time snatching his katana up from the ground and pointing it at the Empty's throat as it shrieked in anger.

"That stung," the thing snarled. "But you're no match for me. None of you are, not even together!"

"Then a deal."

Dean and Cas both looked over to Crowley who was staring the Empty down rather nonchalantly. Its head spun toward the demon who it had been ignoring until now.

"What's that?"

"Look, darling," Crowley said. "I know these Winchesters. Massive pains in the arse. I tried for years to take them out and eventually had to join them because it was in my best interests to do so."

"What are you saying?" the Empty snapped.

"I'm saying offer them a wager," Crowley told it. "They've been doing quite well with running Hell, it would be a shame to end their reign so soon. It might not even be a bad thing to have them in your debt. A favor from a Winchester is a precious commodity where I come from."

Dean fought the urge to roll his eyes but hoped Crowley's plan worked. He watched as the Empty considered this.

"Because, trust me," Crowley added. "They will not be quiet. These boys have the insufferable ability to perpetually cause trouble for anyone who goes against them. Believe me, take it from someone who has. You would much rather they not be here."

The Empty seemed to consider this, cocking its head shaped bit to one side. "Perhaps you are right, demon. Very well. I'm willing to offer a wager."

Dean held his breath; not sure he was willing to believe this yet.

"I'll give you the chance to make it back to where you came in," the Empty said and released the three of them from it's grasp.

Dean caught himself on his knees before straightening up. "And what's the catch?"

The Empty's face contorted into a horrific, overstretched grin that gave the Cheshire Cat a run for its money. "The catch?" It laughed mockingly. "The catch is don't be caught!"

"What does that mean?" Cas demanded.

The Empty sniggered to itself a little more before it turned back around to where Sam was still suspended. "It means that if you're not quick or smart enough, you won't make it out of here."

The pillars started melted and the vines retreated from Sam's body as he slowly sank to the floor. Dean and Cas ran to him and Dean caught him as he slumped forward, shuddering as he felt the last of the tendrils come out from under Sam's skin. The last one to remove itself was the one in his mouth, showing by its length, just how much of it had been shoved down Sam's throat. Dean gritted his teeth in disgust.

"Sammy," he whispered, reaching up to wipe some blood from Sam's mouth, patting his cheek gently.

Cas reached out and placed a hand on his forehead, his own furrowing in worry.

"It's damaged him quite heavily," he said grimly.

Dean clutched his brother's limp form tighter, feeling desperation surge through him. Sam stirred and a small moan escaped his throat.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, cupping his face.

"Mm, D'n?" Sam slurred, eyes fluttering.

"Dean, put the pendant around his neck," Cas told him.

Dean reached into his coat and pulled out the pendant, before looping it around Sam's neck. He watched as the stone glowed briefly then went back to normal. He hoped that meant it had activated. He tucked it into Sam's collar and patted his chest gently. "Don't worry, little brother, I'm gonna get you out of here."

"This is a touching family reunion, but we need to go," Crowley snapped at them, nodding toward the Empty standing off to one side, leering at them.

Dean nodded. "Cas, help me out."

Between the two of them, they got Sam onto Dean's shoulders in a fireman's carry. Thankfully, his demonic strength allowed him to do this without staggering under his brother's weight. Cas handed him his katana and drew his own blade again.

"I'll give you a five-minute head start," the Empty said. "You'll need it with that dead weight."

Dean gritted his teeth and nodded to the others. "Come on, let's go."

He had no idea how much time they had left and with Sam on his shoulders, he couldn't reach for his phone, but he figured they were reaching the end of their allotted time. They would have to rush back anyway.

He just hoped they would be able to make it back there before encountering whatever fresh hell the Empty planned to unleash on them.

"Do you have any idea what that thing is planning on doing to stop us?" Dean asked Crowley as they hurried along as a brisk jog, Dean shifting Sam every other second so his unconscious form didn't slide off completely.

"I don't think any of us want to know, and I really hope we don't find out," Crowley snapped back.

"You know you can go back to wherever you came from here," Dean told him.

Crowley shot him a glare. "I'm the only ally you have here, Squirrel, and death is rather freeing. I died for you and your idiot mop-haired brother, I'm not going to let you rot down here while my Kingdom burns."

Dean couldn't help a small smile. "I knew you had a heart somewhere in there, Crowley."

"Do shut up," the demon snarled, rolling his eyes.

The only warning Dean got that something was wrong was a flicker out of the corner of his eye and then Cas was grabbed from behind, halting his pace violently and throwing him to the ground.

"Cas!" Dean skidded to a halt.

"Cutting my head off didn't make me very happy, Dean."

Alastair stood over Cas, holding a razor, which he was fondling. Cas groaned and gripped his blade tighter as he scooted away.

"Dean, behind you!" Crowley cried out.

Dean didn't waste time in moving, he simply whipped his katana up and over his back, catching a blade on his own sword before his attacker could stab Sam.

He spun around and saw that his attacker was another blast from the past.

"Uriel," he growled, keeping his longer blade between him and the angel. "I really hoped we'd never see you again."

"Yes, well, we can't always get what we want, Winchester," Uriel said with a smirk and raised a hand.

Angelic power slammed into Dean's chest and he and Sam were both flung several yards, tumbling to the ground. As soon as he looked up, he was seeing Cas launching himself toward Uriel before the angel could stab Dean.

Alastair on the other hand, was also advancing on Dean, his razor held nonchalantly at his side with a dangerous glint.

"Maybe it's time for another lesson, Dean," he said.

"I may just help you out, Alastair."

The feminine voice caught him off guard, and his heart sunk as he realized another one of their old enemies had materialized.

"Lilith," he snarled.

"It's been a long time, Dean," she said, bending over him from her place at his head. "I gotta say, I've sort of missed you."

"Can't say the same," Dean snarled and swept out with his legs, slamming them into Alastair's ankles, sending the demon to the ground before he brought his sword around.

Lilith caught his wrist before he could strike her, and squeezed. Dean grunted as she forced him to his knees.

"Like I said, I really missed you. No hellhounds down here, but I'll make do."

Before she could do anything though, a blast took her full in the chest and she was thrown back into the void with a screech of fury.

Dean spun around and saw Sam, up on one elbow, his hand held out, trembling slightly as he breathed hard.

"Holy crap!" Dean gasped. "You did that?"

Sam grinned as Dean rushed to help him up. "Yeah, apparently I'm missing out on a lot of my powers having a body. But Crowley's been teaching me ways to get around that."

Another scream sounded and Dean glanced over to see Cas yanking his angel blade from Uriel's chest. Crowley was fighting Alastair and Dean simply walked over and lopped off his head again.

"Let's go," he said. "Something tells me we don't have a lot of time."

"Yes," Cas said and he and Dean both lifted Sam to his feet and Dean handed him the angel blade Uriel had dropped. "It seems like the Empty is sending all of our worst enemies after us."

"Yes, so let's stop talking and go!" Crowley snapped.

But more figures were already materializing out of the darkness, too many familiar faces Dean had hoped never to see again. Yellow eyes glinted before Azazel appeared and grinned.

"Alright, plan b," Dean snarled, throwing Sam's arm over his shoulder. "We run like hell!"

They took off as fast as they could go, every angel or demon they had ever tangled with before hot on their heels and wanting blood.

_~~~~~~~_

_Wheatly began to pace_ anxiously. It was not very becoming of his position but he felt he was going mad with the wait. He plucked a pocket watch out and checked the time.

Less than two hours left now and they still hadn't arrived.

He heard a whine and turned to Sam's room, where Juliet was still bemoaning the death of her master. Wheatly pressed his lips into a thin line and reached out to scratch her behind the ears.

"Not much longer, now," he said.

Something caught his eye and he glanced down at Sam's hand. A glow appeared from between the pale, stiff fingers and Wheatly reached out to grab his wrist, pulling it up for a closer look.

It was the pendant Rowena had given them. The sigil on it was glowing!

Wheatly hoped that was a good sign.

He hurried to the other room where Rowena was feeding more herbs into the spell bowl.

"The pendant you gave His Majesty is glowing," Wheatly informed her.

Rowena looked up, some relief in her eyes. "Good, that means Sam had received the pendant on the other side. Hopefully it won't be too much longer now."

As she spoke, Wheatly glanced toward Dean and Castiel, still lying perfectly still on the bed, their own pendants glowing. He really hoped they would be able to get Sam out in time…

A cut appeared out of nowhere on Castiel's cheek, blood dripping down the side of his face.

At the same time, a spot of blood appeared on the side of Dean's shirt and when Wheatly reached out to lift it, he saw a cut there too.

"Oh, dear," Rowena murmured.

"What is this?" Wheatly demanded.

"Looks like they've gotten into a spot of trouble," she said. "Unfortunately, since they're still tied to their bodies, if anything happens to their soul selves in there, it will transfer to their physical selves."

"They're being attacked, is what you're saying," Wheatly snapped.

Rowena shrugged helplessly. "I can't do anything about this!"

"There's no way you can pull them back?"

She shook her head. "I can't until they reach the spot where they came in."

Wheatly watched as a spot of blood appeared on Castiel's white shirt. "Can you send me in? Winston and I could go and offer aid…"

"There's no time!" Rowena said. "I can't leave the spell long enough to make you the potion. They could be at the entry point at any minute."

Wheatly tightened his jaw, but knew she was right. He just hated being so helpless.

Rowena seemed to see this and take pity on him, patting his hand gently to his surprise. "Don't worry. I know those boys get into a lot of trouble, but they also get out of a lot of it too. They'll be fine."

"Yes," Wheatly said softly, remembering his speech to Winston earlier about having faith.

He hoped it would not be unfounded.

_~~~~~~~_

_Dean barely dodged_ a blow from an angel blade that would have skewered him straight through, instead feeling it slice him across the ribs. He gritted his teeth and spun to kick out at his opponent—Raphael. Fantastic.

"Dean!"

Cas launched himself between Dean and another figure, crying out as a blow slashed across his side.

"Cas!" Dean shouted, catching his friend as the angel staggered backward.

"Castiel—still hanging around these degenerates?"

Zachariah's mocking voice was something Dean would recognize anywhere. He glowered at the angel as he readjusted his grip on his sword.

"Zachariah—still a douchebag?" Dean quipped.

Zachariah sighed. "Yes, I see you haven't changed, Dean, expect changing your colors completely to Hell. Some Righteous Man you turned out to be. Should have expected it the whole time, I suppose."

Dean stepped in front of Cas and raised his sword, but Zachariah simply flung them both backwards with a flick of his hand. Cas recovered first, getting to his knees before Zachariah drove the toe of his boot into his wounded side. Cas collapsed with a cry and Zachariah kicked Dean onto his back, slamming a foot down on his chest.

"I gotta say, it is fun to see you squirming under my heel. Let's see how you like to have an angel blade stabbed through your head. Spoiler warning—it's not fun."

Dean raised his sword, only to have Raphael appear and kick it from his hand before the archangel turned back to Cas and slammed his foot into the lesser angel's back.

Dean glanced toward Sam and Crowley who were fighting off Azazel and a bunch of demons. They were struggling to hold their own even now, and Dean knew it wasn't going to be much longer before they were completely subdued. Zachariah smirked and reached down to grab Dean around the throat, hauling him up and off his feet as Dean grabbed his arm, trying to take some of the pressure off his throat.

"Time's up, Dean. I hope you enjoy your stay here," Zachariah said as he raised his angel blade for the killing blow…

And gagged, freezing. Dean watched with shock as a blade suddenly appeared from the angel's throat.

Zachariah's grip loosened and Dean landed on his feet as Zachariah toppled over, revealing his attacker.

"Bloody hell, I've been waiting to do that for very, _very_ long time."

Dean stared in shock. "Balthazar?"

The angel smirked. "What? You thought only the bad angels were down here?"

Another strangled cry had Dean turning toward where Cas and Raphael were struggling—or had been until Raphael got the same treatment as Zachariah.

From Anna.

Cas was looking upward in shock and wonder, seeing his sister. Anna grinned and reached down to help him up.

"Hello, Castiel," she said softly.

"Anna," he cried, drawing her in for a brief embrace before turning with wide eyes to grip Balthazar's shoulder. "Balthazar, you're…"

"Here to save your arse, Cassie," Balthazar said with a grin. "And we brought help."

More angels appeared, going after the angels and demons both who were attacking their group. One caught Dean's eye and he recognized Gadreel, grabbing a demon who was approaching Sam from behind and stabbing an angel blade through his chest.

"You're not far from the entry point," Anna told them. "We'll cover you, act as your escort out."

"Thank you," Cas said gratefully, coming out of his shock as he turned to Dean with a nod.

Dean turned to Sam and Crowley. "Come on!"

They entered into a running battle, the three of them surrounded by a flight of angelic comrades, who were taking out as many of the enemy as they could. Dean ignored the stinging blows he received every once in a while from angel blades, lopped off as many demonic heads as he could reach, and grabbed Sam's arm when his brother faltered.

And, yes, soon enough they saw the sigil glowing up ahead.

"Come on! We're almost there!" Dean cried, throwing Sam's arm over his shoulder and practically dragging his brother's exhausted body over to the sigil.

Anna suddenly screamed and collapsed with a blade in her back. Uriel stood behind her, smirking.

"That's payback, traitor," he said.

Lilith and Azazel appeared too, smirking nastily. "Are you actually trying to escape?" Lilith asked with a mocking pout.

"Go!" Crowley demanded, rushing forward to swing his angel blade at Azazel who simply backhanded him and sent Crowley flying. The yellow-eyed demon strode forward, reaching for Sam.

"I'd like to have some more quality time with my boy Sammy," the yellow-eyed demon said. "You simply cannot leave yet."

"Try us," Sam growled and raised a hand, expelling a blast of energy, throwing Azazel backwards.

Unfortunately, that seemed to have knocked out his last reserve of power and he slumped in Dean's grasp, leaving him to have to hold his brother up with both arms.

"Dean!" Cas cried, jumping in to stop Uriel and Raphael both from attacking, only to be flung backwards as the two angels stood over him, raising their blades.

"Cas!" Dean cried in terror, dragging Sam over toward the sigil before he reached for his sword.

But an angel blade flashed through the darkness and Raphael fell to Balthazar who was limping but still in the fight. Unfortunately, Uriel swatted him away and grabbed Cas by the throat yanking the pendant off.

"No!" Dean cried.

"I'm guessing this is how you get back," Uriel smirked. "Well, Castiel, I think it's finally time you serve your penance—"

He gagged, a blade slamming through his throat.

"Always have to save your ass, don't I, Clarence?"

Cas looked up, mouth agape, at the figure who had just appeared. "Meg?"

The demon smiled and reached down to rip the pendant out of Uriel's hand before reaching out to help Cas to his feet.

"That's right, feathers."

Crowley staggered up to them again. "You need to go, now!"

"Cas," Dean called gently.

Meg smiled at him and pressed the pendant into Cas' hand. "He's right. But first, something to remember me by."

She rose on her toes and kissed Cas on the mouth before pushing him gently in the chest.

"Now get out of here," she said with a smile. "I don't want to see you again for a long time."

Cas offered her a gentle smile back before he turned to Sam and Dean and hurried toward the sigil.

Crowley, Meg, Balthazar and the others all turned to them, giving them a farewell as they readied their weapons to hold off the rest of the mob so they could escape.

Dean and Cas both took hold of Sam's limp form as they stepped onto the sigil.

"Now what?" Dean demanded.

"I guess we wait for Rowena," Cas grunted.

At just that moment, the sigil under their feet began to glow ten times as bright. So bright, Dean had to shut his eyes, latching on to both Sam and Cas as he felt heat radiate through his body.

"This must be it," Cas gritted out.

"See you on the other side," Dean gasped before the Empty's black void exploded in a blast of white light.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean gasped awake, clawing himself upright, fingers digging into the bedcover under him. Cas was up a second later, hand pressed to a wound on his chest that had left a bloody spot on his shirt.

Dean pressed a hand to his side where pain was radiating and found wetness there as well. Dammit, looked like they didn't get a free pass getting wounded in another dimension.

"You're back! Thank heavens it actually worked!" Rowena exclaimed, smiling at them with genuine relief.

Dean drew more breath into his lungs and glanced up at Wheatly who was standing off to one side, hands clasped behind him, back straight like usual, but the relief in his eyes told of how worried he had been.

"Master Winchester. Angel," the steward said.

"Wheatly," Dean replied and pushed himself off of the bed, his legs a bit shaky. But he had to know if it really had worked.

He hurried through the suite to the other bedroom, Cas right on his heels.

Juliet's bark hailed their arrival and Dean saw her finally standing up on the bed, bent over Sam's face, tail wagging hopefully.

"Sammy!" Dean cried, rushing forward and skidding to a halt next to the bed. Juliet whined. Dean and Cas watched with bated breath.

Sam's eyes opened and he took a deep, shuddering breath, hands flailing.

Dean caught his hands, feeling something loosen in his chest that had been knotted since he had seen Sam lying there in the hotel courtyard. "God, Sammy." He yanked his brother upright and crushed him in an embrace, cradling the back of his head and pressing Sam's face into his shoulder as he breathed easily.

Cas waited only a second before he joined the embrace, circling both brothers in his arms. Dean wasn't sure but he thought he had seen Cas' ethereal wings out of the corner of his eye, enfolding all of them as well.

Juliet barked joyfully and wiggled her way into the group hug. Sam finally gave a breathless laugh and wrapped one of his arms around her as well.

"I thought I'd really lost you that time, kiddo," Dean whispered into his brother's hair before finally pulling away to look at his face.

Sam looked up at him with shining eyes, squeezing the back of Dean's neck. "I'm tougher than that. And I had you two to save me."

Dean exhaled a relieved breath, and straightened as Cas touched Sam's forehead, trying to see if any damage had been done.

"Thankfully, since his soul was not directly connected to his body like ours were, all his injuries stayed in the Empty," the angel said with relief.

"Well, that's something." Sam still looked completely exhausted though and Dean gripped his shoulder gently. "Why don't you get cleaned up and into something comfortable? You're probably going to need a bit of rest."

Sam didn't argue and as Dean and Cas helped him to his feet, Wheatly came into the room with a towel and fresh pajamas.

"The bath has already been prepared for you," he said with a small smile as he bowed. "Welcome back, my Lord."

"Thanks, Wheatly," Sam smiled tiredly and allowed his brothers to lead him to bathroom.

Once Sam was clean and fed, Dean tucked him back into bed where he passed out almost instantly. He watched his brother's chest rise and fall with precious breaths for a few long moments, then left after scratching Juliet behind the ears again—leaving her to be Sam's guardian.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face as he turned from his brother. He would never get used to this.

He left the door ajar in case Sam needed something as he went out and reached into the fridge, grabbing a couple beers.

He set one on the table in front of Cas then sat down across from him.

"How is he?" Cas asked.

"Fast asleep," Dean said, taking a long pull of the beer. He wanted something stronger, but would settle with this for now. "You really think he's okay?"

Cas shrugged. "I saw nothing wrong with him. But we'll keep an eye on him."

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line. "Well, I suppose we have other things we need to worry about right now anyway."

"Yes," Cas agreed. "Asmodeus will not hesitate to strike now. Especially if he finds out that his assassin failed after all."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Dean mused, taking another long drink. "I've actually got a few ideas."

He told Cas briefly what he was planning. "That's the gist of it anyway, but I'll tell you more in the morning. I'm too tired tonight to think of anything else. Being mostly dead really takes it out of you."

Cas nodded, the angel looking completely exhausted as well. Dean thought they would all be sleeping tonight. He was glad for the guards Winston had insisted on staying outside their door.

He downed the last of his beer and stood, clapping Cas on the shoulder. "Why don't you take my bed, get some sleep? We've got a lot to do."

Cas didn't inquire further, already knowing exactly where Dean was going to spend his night. Dean grabbed a pillow from his bed before leaving Cas to it, and went to Sam's room, pulling the comfortable reading chair over from the corner and slumping into it as he watched his brother sleep for a few more seconds before his eyes finally slid shut as well and he was forced to succumb to his exhaustion.

_~~~~~~~_

_Sam had no idea_ how long he slept because he didn't even know when they'd gotten back from the Empty. When he'd come back to life.

It was surreal and it never got easier, coming back from the dead. One might think that after doing it multiple times it would get easier, but, no. It was even worse this time because he _remembered_ what it was like being stuck in the Empty. He wasn't sure if that was the nature of the place, or if it had something to do with the spell Rowena had used to get him out. He still shuddered at the thought of being in the Empty's grasp, his skin tingling with the memory. But it was over now, he was back.

Juliet, noticing he was awake, butted her head happily against him and licked his cheek. He cringed but smiled, finally opening his eyes as he pushed himself upright.

To no surprise, Dean was sleeping in a chair by his bed. Sam smiled at his brother and took his blanket off the bed, covering Dean with it as he shuffled out of his room, Juliet on his heels.

Cas and Wheatly were talking quietly in the kitchenette when he came in and Wheatly instantly stood from the table.

"Your Majesty! I didn't expect you up yet. There's still some coffee in the pot but I can make you a new pot if you wish."

"It's fine I'll drink this and you can make some more for when Dean wakes up," Sam assured him, gratefully sinking into the seat across from Cas.

"How are you, Sam?" the angel asked.

Sam shrugged. "Fine? Tired. I could probably sleep for a week."

"Unfortunately, I don't think any of us will get that luxury," Cas said with a sigh. "Dean has a plan though. For Asmodeus."

"I've been thinking of it myself," Sam said, tapping his fingers on the mug that Wheatly handed him before he took a sip of the hot drink. "Crowley taught me a little about my powers while I was in the Empty. Showed me a few tricks on how to bypass my physical body and use more of my raw power. That was how I was able to get the message telepathically to Dean."

Cas nodded. "You think you could do that again?"

"I'd have to try it," Sam said. "I have a lot of training to do."

"And not much time to do it," Dean murmured groggily, stumbling into the main room, rubbing his eyes.

"Coffee, in a moment, Master Winchester," Wheatly assured him. "And I'm going to fetch you something to eat momentarily."

"Thanks," Dean replied, then, "Hey, Wheatly? Is everything still the same as last night?"

The steward straightened up. "Winston and I have said nothing. Any other guards who know are trusted and sworn to secrecy."

"Good, they'll be the ones who take Sam to the bunker."

Sam raised his head with a frown. "Wait, what?"

Dean and Cas shared a look before Dean turned to him. "I know how we're going to get to Asmodeus. I have a plan. But there's a few conditions. And one is that you need to stay dead."

"But…won't that cause problems here? Hell must already be in turmoil," Sam protested, not even wanting to think about what might have happened for the couple days he'd been out of commission.

"But Asmodeus thinks you're dead," Cas said. "His plan, whatever it is, likely hinges on that. So you are going to be our secret weapon."

Sam nodded, finally understanding the plan.

"So you're going to go into hiding for a little bit in the bunker, practice your powers," Dean said. "And we're going to figure out how to stop Asmodeus once and for all."

He stood up and accepted the cup of coffee that Wheatly handed to him. "But first, we have a funeral to plan."

_To Be Continued in "Hell Hath Fury"_


End file.
